Monthly Archives: November 2014

strum

Posted on November 25, 2014 by whimsygizmo

. she is spun right ’round, stitched strong of thrum-threaded strings over hollow center. stretch your fingers long to the sky and find her last strains. she’ll try to tell you she’s un -loveable at best, a beast of burden … Continue reading →

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anti(-biotic) love

Posted on November 25, 2014 by whimsygizmo

(hazmat suit optional) . . you can kiss me now, i think. i am no longer contagious, though an outrageous amount of phlegm is still in the mix. on second thought, nix that. in case i am still catching, let’s … Continue reading →

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blue poems

Posted on November 25, 2014 by whimsygizmo

blue Monday phlegm goes well with indigo, turns out. cornflower and periwinkle smile, even when there’snot a cloud in the sky. blue (Tuesday) Oh, yes. Yes to a sunny packled indigo spot. Yes to the ruffled breeze and the pine … Continue reading →

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I’ll Be Right Here.

Posted on November 24, 2014 by whimsygizmo

(Lullaby for the Lost) . Oh, Baby. We all thought we were going somewhere once, caught in the lull of our own skin. How do I begin to hold you with my whole, whole heart, open these chambered cages so … Continue reading →

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carry the one

Posted on November 23, 2014 by whimsygizmo

addition ……………………..was much ………………………………more fun, ……………………………but subtraction …………………………………………………becomes ……………………………………..her. .

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Bay Street Blues

Posted on November 23, 2014 by whimsygizmo

. Play me some pretty ditty, spilling out of the café on the corner, chased by laughter. Watch as my last cigarette burns to dust. I’ve been standing here for hours and not a soul has seen me. Stars have … Continue reading →

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Solitaire

Posted on November 23, 2014 by whimsygizmo

. The cards are stacked against her, aces down. She’s been alone so long the walls are talking, squawking about her lack of decorum progress hygiene. There’s a newspaper in that pile over there, says Carter made president. She knows … Continue reading →

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the cheese stands alone

Posted on November 23, 2014 by whimsygizmo

. there’s a man on the street with dirty feet and an old guitar. he’s got $17 in an old jam jar, but he can’t remember how to get home. there’s a girl on the on the stage who dances … Continue reading →

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poem alone, flown home

Posted on November 23, 2014 by whimsygizmo

. tie a tiny string around its left i am -bic foot, that it might know where to go in a storm. remind it where it comes from, letters spilled and open vein willed to page. let it rage against … Continue reading →

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The Liberation of Longing

Posted on November 22, 2014 by whimsygizmo

. A long, slow howl is sometimes best, the holding of your head up high, and still. Keep your eyes on the moon; she’s seen too much, and if you let her go, she’ll spill your secrets from here to … Continue reading →

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