Monthly Archives: January 2015

Gathering Wood (a blackout poem)

.. gathered from a little 1923 book called “Jo, the Little Machinist,” by Spyri

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games

.. we bet heart ………trinkets, origami stars. i fold. ……….you win. .   .. Written for dVerse.      

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Orion’s Belt Unbuckling

.. Let’s give that fat and sassy moon something to talk about, something to squawk about when she bids the sun good morning. Let’s make sure the gossip’s juicy, as loosy -goosy tongues pry open this bold bruised sky. Let’s … Continue reading

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Beholding

.. She’s got this smile, see? Makes you want to stay awhile, hang your hat on the corner. She’ll beguile you with silvered kisses, moody phase and days and days of waiting for her to get her fill of sky. … Continue reading

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On, we

. travel, no sense of direction or song, condemning clouds with ink -y silence. Smell the rain? It has no single end or rendering. List its droplets as your scars. We’ll wait, generate weather channel wars and the capitulate -shun … Continue reading

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It’s official.

I cannot eat eggs. I don’t know why I try. It’s off -icial. I cannot eat eggs. And here’s      ……….burp egg -zactly why. ..

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Plain Pale Pen

.. She’s searching for something slightly left of center, more than six feet deep. A sign: the arrival of the straying sun, gone too long and guilty of another night spent hiding. A sigh: her mouth a laughing scar that … Continue reading

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january

.. leaves her feeling a little naked, laid bare, un-de -cor(rug)ated as her house, left only with the slightest twinkle of forgotten light and the memory of pine in the corners. she re -solves algorithms once be -fuddled, sweeps out … Continue reading

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giving in to her whims

. give her a small, strange heart and she’ll take it for a walk in the sunlight. give her a raindrop, the quiet clop of hooves on brick, the thick feel of fog on her hungry skin. give her a … Continue reading

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Chapped Lips

and fingers. I am trying to corral my word spill, fill actual pages with some semblance of rhythm and reason. ‘Twas the season for revelry and procrastination. Imagine my indignation when I realized the deadline’s almost DOA.     ..

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