Author Archives: whimsygizmo

whatever is true

  she longs to stand beside the ocean feeling significantly small, where the only color that matters ………………….is blue.

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poem reparations

she wishes she could fix her muse, air her out in clothes-pinned sunshine, breeze away these blues. perhaps she’ll braid her through dragonclouds or button her to the moon. here, won’t you glue her brittle-broken pieces, shake them loose, fasten … Continue reading

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in praise of finish(ed) lines

we inky finger tappety-key the words across these snow drifts day after day after day after ………………………………..day, even as the world is ending even though our kids are home even though we’re torn, and tumbled even though the world is … Continue reading

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total loss for words

The sky’s a sheer black slate of broken stars, a cold moon holding her tongue.     .. An American Sentence. {in april we poem.}   

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of rearview, and regret

… this poem wishes she was just a little longer slower stronger more open more hopin’ or maybe just closer than she appears. .. in april we poem.       

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a poem

.. is a massive thought sometimes caught in a tiny box.     …. in april we poem.       

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Here There Be Giants

.. Big ones, with teeth. They’re massive, and they’re angry beyond belief. They’ve got spikes and scales and dragon tails and fangs that sink in deep. They’re  .H…U≥G…E and they’re scary, (so better beware-y) when simply walking down my street. … Continue reading

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pocket change

.. let’s stuff some hope in there, and some kindness, too, a little sun -shine and some promises that just might fight these denim blues. we’ll need some unity and a quiet few who are willing to break through and … Continue reading

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17 cents

.. just two ….(call ’em lucky) pennies and three nickels …….(rub ’em all together) that say she just might make it , that this sky might turn from black …and blue to sunrise tangerine so sweet, that these dirty feet … Continue reading

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re:mix’d and mashed

some days,  she takes her potatoes …..(and her love poems) smashed to smithereens, brave new world view things cleaving, leaving eyes and peelings in this social rebel breeze. she is the scribbler who scrambled her words, the girl who talked … Continue reading

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