Monthly Archives: January 2019

(th)inking in thirds

..   She is still left mourning this powdered sugar skin, frozen limbs, a hush of snow.     inkin’ in thirds on thursdays.   

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Skeleton Moons in Dark Closets

Crave her. Save her as a nightlight, lighthouse beacon for the sea. Hold her fast between these hanger clouds, the hush-loud sting of stars. Turn that golden knob. She’s waiting.   .. For twiglets.   

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Tea, and Stars

There’s a chai sky brewing, stewing in its own bright stir. She whirls, stretches long against a sugar cube moon and raises …………….(hands, ………………heart, ………………..hell) to tell her deepest stories, to spell herself in shards, to allow these aching leaves … Continue reading

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inking in threes

.. She begins the day with a cup, a word, a dream stirred; breathes her self -of steam.   .. written for ink in thirds. 

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  She sheds her sky -skin to begin, and reassembles herself …………………………………sane. . She gives the moon a shattered star -smooch, with lips of wax ………………………….and wane.     .. Prompted by Lil’s Poetics over at dVerse, and todays twiglet.  … Continue reading

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inking in thirds

We find ourselves at winter’s center, speaking in snowflakes to a frozen-faced moon.     Photo and prompt from over at inking in thirds.   

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Fessin’ Up

I am still waiting for the moon to find her own light. I mean, she can’t just lie there like a mirror forever, can she? Can I please hold something in my hands that might not wane? If I rip … Continue reading

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What She’s Got

.. Not much more than what’s on her back, gettin’ back on track sometime next summer, perhaps. A song in her heart and an upturned, grateful face; anticipation of sunrise, and other graffiti’d grace.   .. Prompted by Poetic Asides.  … Continue reading

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folding, fitted

  morning. i am still listening to the moon. when we cannot find the day’s center, we change the sheets, create a ballooned fort of warmth and clothes-pinned sun. nothing else is solvable or solvent, perhaps. but we marvel in … Continue reading

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Chameleon Moon

She winks and mocks from a curious sky, golden one moment, silver the next and trying hard to play peek-a-blue with all these clueless clouds. She’s a wily one, and before you can quite catch her, fetch her, she changes … Continue reading

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