Daily Archives: November 6, 2017

Ahhhhh-merican Beau De(picted)

Posted on November 6, 2017 by whimsygizmo

… Today, we are made of nothing but sugar magnolia fusion and bluegrass sting; no -thing you’d want to ripple or reverberate. Bait me a bass drum, the depicted back cover where we stare at nothing, breaking the rules, ex … Continue reading →

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When Words Crowd an Indifferent Sky

Posted on November 6, 2017 by whimsygizmo

… Open to a whisper-kick? Let’s cue these shadowclouds, breeze-spark bliss stormspill-sky. Ghosts’ll giggle, twist-spring flickerfear this bubbleballoon moon. She’ll dream -drizzle-dance you still, echo-skip breeze; journey free. We spice hope, dawn-dream, spark-spring-forward. Shimmer -grin-green, cue curled-breath. Lull death’s creak. … Continue reading →

Posted in dVerse poems, moon poems, Quadrille | Tagged , , , | 13 Comments

This Sky’s Got Bruises, Scars

Posted on November 6, 2017 by whimsygizmo

.. The clouds are playing rugby again, scrum-scumbled into teams, scrambling for their silver linings. Move along now; these primo seats are ours. You’re dreaming if you think there’s a winner. Nothing to see here but sleepy wayward sheep shadow-baying … Continue reading →

Posted in dVerse poems, Quadrille | Tagged , , , | 13 Comments

kick me

Posted on November 6, 2017 by whimsygizmo

.. this poem wears a sign on its skeletal back: attack me if you will, but bring donuts, gin or rum -bled phrase, something I can sink my tangoed teeth into. something that just might stick. hey, bartender, quick – … Continue reading →

Posted in dVerse poems, Quadrille | Tagged , , , , , , | 27 Comments

In Praise of Phrase

Posted on November 6, 2017 by whimsygizmo

.. This poem is the syllables of my hot-mess heart, the spilling of my song. She aches for Lake and salt and sand and sunrise and a full fat moon. This poem tip-toes on her un -ambic feet, dangles part … Continue reading →

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