Monthly Archives: November 2019

This Poem Ain’t Over

’til it’s over there. So hand it to a friend or fiend or your worst enemy or the girl next door or the guy down the street. This poem still has lots to say, to sway, to make hay while … Continue reading

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Have nightshirt, will travel. {Mr. Midnight & Mrs. Moon make the most of free will}

  Once upon a time, they danced. Graced the stars from A to Z, poemed in tercets. An opening act of smile and frown, they dip and weave in all dog star sirius-ness, watch their reflections pen prime haiku in … Continue reading

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Storm’s End

We have been hailed on and snowed in and torn -ado tumbled. We’ve hollowed hurricanes and braved the rain and cycloned half past one. And now here we sit, silent in the sun.   ..I In November, we poem.      … Continue reading

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Have you seen this poem?

She’s smallish and smiling behind one shy hand and she just might be standing under a wise old tree. She’s three white sheets to the wind and tangled in breeze, treasoned by the whispers of a shadow’s scoff. She’s wandered … Continue reading

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have a tiny umbrella in your pocket

, because every day carries at least one small storm.     .. In November, we poem.        

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when the wind whispers to the moon

, he says there’s a storm on the way. buckle down, get strong. she says i’m already strong. unties her belt and begins to dance.     . In November, we poem. 

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Breakfast Talk

Hey, we’ve diddle-diddled long enough, see? The cat’s fiddling around with her food again, and the cow is over-the-moon in love with that little laughing dog. There’s a fog rolling in, and we’re running out of ………….(patience), ……..dishes ………….and spoons. … Continue reading

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Last Petal

.. This poem has fallen in and out of love with her -selves long before this sixth line. She’s daisy-chain tired and yet tried and true. She’s blue. And a particular shade of gray. She really really ……………….(really) wants to … Continue reading

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How to build a storm shelter

Make a steadfast structure of the sharpest stars. Woo a storm. Then spill a poem.   .. In November, we poem.       

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mrs. now

.. she’s neither new nor wow, but she makes it some -how. breathes. believes. listens to the trees. pens imperfect poems.   .. In November, we poem. 

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