Monthly Archives: May 2017
.. We dance. And the sky’s a journey-jar twisted shadow-open, rose-lulled to grin by ghostdawn spring. It drizzles, still, a sound that cues breath, skip-spark twists green. Leaves bubbleclouds to melt in scar-curl sun. That spill-shimmer moon? She’s a whimper-whisper, … Continue reading
… Blame the rain. The way it slant-slid off this damn tin roof, the way we laughed (slippery, only slightly sane) at all the things we thought we knew. Listen to the sound ………..(advice) of silence. Then, blame the stupid … Continue reading
… If we fall and make a slight sound and no one’s around, will our wisdom go to waste, just be erased? If we offer our skins for your unquiet songs, won’t you bid us to raise our own limbs, … Continue reading
She only gets three days to sing her …………..shine, send a message to a chalk-trace moon; run loose these stilted lines, this flimsy wonder. wordled.
She left pieces of her life behind her everywhere she went. It’s easier to feel the sunlight without them, she said. – Brian Andreas .. This poem is my missing pieces. The grief. The shame. The same small dreams I … Continue reading
.. I’m wonder and whim and why and wide …….open to this sun -set shrapnel sky. .. Another offering for today’s Poetic Asides prompt.
.. They crave sequins and spark -led shine, bright pieces of sea and fractured stars. Gray scales ache for ribboned river, milky way canyon scars and the sheen of sea glass. We comb the shores in search of strings and … Continue reading
… It’s the sulfur snuff of a candle burning (out) at both ends, the lull -aby hum of pickle-piqued breeze. Magenta-smooth, it can also kill a cat (just like that) in less than 38 prickly (tick-tock) seconds, ……………………flat. .. Mish … Continue reading
… they breathe in birdsong, the gentle longing for pocket-petal whisper fall on delicate ears. they laugh in flowers, the quiet hours of morning when the sun smiles a golden hiccup-up-up into the sky. .. twiglet #24.