Author Archives: whimsygizmo

Another Pin-Pricked Sigh Sky 

I can’t think of a better medicine than stars for a ceiling. – Yellowstone  :: Now I lay me down                  (to sleep) my fears my tears the tired trappings of my heart.  A quieting restart,this midnight sky.  My wayward soul to keep,counting         (blessings) clouds as sheep.  Standing still, I … Continue reading

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is there anybody out there? 

when the tree falls                  (in the forest) for the sky do you and i hear it, across all these miles?  i know notof timbre falling ,but the stars are full of static electricity and the moon is all crescent cling and zing.  ::I’ve been gleefully out of … Continue reading

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the way the moon slanted her smile at me last time 

, and we’re out there standing on the beach and my toes know sand is fairy dust, and I trust my heart to this evening breeze and she’s teasing me with this closed paren -thesis of gold and so i’ve gone and told the earth … Continue reading

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moving on

(in the key of clack)  :: we’ve left our black smudges on the pages of each other’s hearts.  we’ve flirted, we’ve fallen.we’ve phrased.  we’re right here last callin’glasses raised for one moreround, glass syllables clinkedand jackets donned.  and now as we soldier on (as these … Continue reading

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ghost heart 

you have been living with my ghost.  the rest of me is gone,wisp’d way by grief.  all that’s left here are remnants hanging in the air ,words not said old smoke rings and other barely there things.  :: In April, we poem.

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anyone’s any was all to her

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart:  when you sing in your whisky voice when the world is mud-luscious, the little bird by snow and stir by stillwhen the world is puddle-wonderful he sang his didn’t he danced his did. … Continue reading

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Last-Chance Gas 

We stopagainst our better judgement, even though we’ve barely got a dime between us and we shoulda used it for laundry because your last t-shirt is starting to smell like that rest stop two towns back.  The black black pavement just keeps on moving and that dot-to-dot … Continue reading

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the last poe-hum 

except it isn’t, really.  this is just the onethey call the pen                                 -ultimate.  :: In April, we poem.

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birthrights

a faithful family. a good map jaunt. her dad’s green eyes. her mama’s smile.  the firmest of foundations. a fair shake, a good start.  butsometimes she carries her gifts like burdens,small curse words on curious tongue:  fingers that crave ink,and a two-sizes-too-big … Continue reading

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Sigh(t) Words 

We commit them to memory, wear them as articles of faith, don them like habits.  Sky. Sea. Tree. Wild. Breeze. We take the ones that move us and groove them into our skin.  We close our eyes and paint our fingers cobalt, emerald, saffron. Count … Continue reading

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