Monthly Archives: May 2012

(for Shawna, who shares my whim for weird word bump) . I have assembled an assorted ensemble of elegant elegies for that murmured moment when destiny and dynasty ……..clangclashcrash die(nasty) deaths, and we all let fly our sacred secret diatribe … Continue reading →

Jiggle-jingle the computer screen just right like an etch-a-sketch. Watch every -thing fade to black. …………Vindicate phrase.     . Written for Three Word Wednesday.

  She wakes, wooed wild by word whims, Sows scattered seeds to the wind. Some will flourish, fly, far-flung, Some will sit, sigh, silence sung. But all will beat bald bruised wings, Rise, remember richer things And ease eyes to … Continue reading →

Crease it just right down the center, and it might make a nice greeting card. Triple-brochure fold tuck add a seal and a stamp, and you’ve got yourself a self-mailer. Accordion fold to fan self as you wait for reply. … Continue reading →

smudge a smidge of ink jot a caught thought whittle a tittle of phrase crum -ble tears, and days.   . Written for Poetic Asides.

Things decay, he says as if this ashen thing between them is a dilapidated bank building or a tumbleweed ghost town. She doesn’t buy it. Isn’t ready to let go of these crumbling pillars, worn saloon doors still swaying in … Continue reading →

House, by Anna Ancher (a shadorma) Even the floorboards say go for -ward, open door waits, gapes. But see, much light is cast right; small windows frame truth. Visual prompt offered at Margo Roby’s Tuesday Tryouts.

February 11, 1963 Hello, Mother. I regret my letters have become few and far between. It’s as if I can feel my very spirit fading; some narrow bolt thrust out and shaken loose. Even the designs of my etching fingers … Continue reading →

Greater love hath no man than this: than to lay down his life for his friends. – John 15:13  . Fallen, you stand tall still strong white teeth in a sea of green reflecting sun and shadow silenced too soon, … Continue reading →

photo credit You want my shoes? You can have ’em. They’re tired and worn and the laces are torn from so many tattered miles. This quiet place was hard fought, wrought in tears and ink and stones unthrown, impossible truths … Continue reading →