Monthly Archives: November 2018

one more,with feeling

  … in december, the poems are …w   h   e   w ……………………..{and far between.}     .

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one more for the road

.. we’re told we don’t have to go home, but we can’t stay here, and so we disappear , soaked in star-spilled scrim and rum -bled phrase.     .. Whew. And November is through. Many kudos to all who … Continue reading

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One More Time for the People in the Back

{a remix} The moon’s in a mood, (imagine her wild, midnight -maroon) shaky-swoon-spooned over sturdy skinned knees, driven breeze. This is her hour of burning hunger, quiet storm. She’s ivory sea, and I can’t quiet see her center. Praise these … Continue reading

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Feeling fractured, not quite full

(A praised day found) . Please forgive me for the song that loops around us now, this quiet separation from the ……….stars. We raise our tiny voices to the sky – doodler of dragons, an unsolvable equation of puberty and … Continue reading

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i can’t imagine her wild

{mood ring: forgiveness, and other disasters} i. midnight-maroon, for her darkest hour swoon, her great craving for protest and anti -hate, war. ii. gun metal gray for her weary worn heart and its shaky veins, brave un -broken beat. iii. … Continue reading

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She’s found herself in ink and sky

.. , and silent salt. The squawking cry of hungry gulls. The broken praise of trees. She’s on her knees in dark -est hour, bone-tired and waiting. Forgive her, Father (Son, and wholly long-loved ghost); at most, she’s brave. She’s … Continue reading

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Shaky Hands, Sturdy Chalk

.. When the words won’t flow, she smudges tiny poems.   .. In November, we poem.     

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This poem is carrying a sign  

that says it’s busy, working its ast -*erisk off, worth its salt. It’s tired of being underpaid for scribbling storms and pen-painting darkest hour dawns. This poem is highly motivated and power hungry. It is glorious in its gregarious -ness, … Continue reading

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Sea

… I’m not sure where …….the moon went, …but I think it might be ………………..my fault. I miss her. So please, ……forgive ..my salt.   .. Poem ketchuping.   

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