Profile of a Serial Killer

She gets her kix
……..(turns trix)
down on Route 66;
off the low-lying fruit,
loops her fingers through
their hair
and stares into their
……(life flashes before)
eyes before surprising
them with the flash
of her 38 special
(k, Cap’n)
har(d) vest

Total calm.
(Cheerio, old chap.)

Lowers her arms.
Saves their teeth
as lucky


A second offering for today’s dVerse Poetics. Watch out. Prompt is addicting. 



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Sometimes You Feel Like a Nut


Moon snickers. She’s got
a secret, a milky
way of char-
stone chewing up this
dark sky. She’s all butter
-fingers and mounds of moonbeam
twix(t) the 3
musketeers sneers
of Orion’s belt notch trio.

It’s pay day somewhere
up there
on Mars;
(good)bar’s open
to suggestions,
and the 5thavenue
shopping window
……-spray of crackled stars.


Not goin’ anywhere for awhile? You’re gonna wanna lay a finger on this prompt – Lil’s over at dVerse Poetics. 🙂



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dawns the day, and so we lace our shoes

run one. just one. and when you’re
done, may
run another one. perhaps a
half. another step. another breath.
another sidewalk slap-hum,
another strum of heart,
another start

another way of leaving,
receiving sunrise hope




Twiglets #76, after an encounter with some baby quail this morning. 


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Hesitations of the Dawn

We forget her scar
-let dress is just for
early risin’, surprisin’
us with all its crimson
silk applause.

take a second
and book a table
for two
near the horizon.


Prompted by Poetic Asides


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language lessons


i am still
studiously listening
to the stutter of trees, the Braille
of breeze, and the way these
feathered things might sway
their song.

that moon,
she’s a teacher.
a preacher.
a reacher of stars.
a quiet far
-off place to etch
the hieroglyphics of
the heart.

i am also contemplating
(cogitating, slow
the algorithms of this
shy shade, and the ways
it’s made me sane.

i’ve even tried ocean
-ease on for size.

and here is what I’ve decided:
we are all just empty
waiting for fire


It’s been awhile since I did a prompt mashup. Couldn’t resist today’s Twiglet (#75), and Mish’s prompt over at dVerse Poetics. Come play! 



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this wor(l)d
wants to be
a thou
-sand poems.



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muddling puddles


my galoshes are sloshed.
i’m gonna need a bum
to keep my willy-nilly birthday
suit(e) saved unscathed
from all this mud
-(d)led muck.

the sun’s come out again.
i miss the stuck-struck spill
of my jelly-belly wellies filling
with rhymin’ writhin’ writin’

This word wants to be a thousand poems. Come play with me at dVerse



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