Category Archives: NaPoWriMo

On Wheelbarrows and Plums

… A wheelbarrow may be some -thing upon which much(ness) depends, but it is not my nom de plume, not that last plum you ate that was so cold. It has but one wheel, and a tendency for tipping over, … Continue reading

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to hold the moon on your hungry tongue

… , first hum her name in scooped vanilla phrase, and let it murmur-melt to silence. drizzle her in dark chocolate sauce sky, with poprock star sprinkles. there’s a milky way shake nearby; just grab a straw and slurp. the … Continue reading

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Manna {What is it?}

              google images .. Apparently, there was no food in their food for awhile there. A couple of ingredients shy of plastic. P r e s e r v a t i v e … Continue reading

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white room

… white walls like fresh snow -fall. tree shed, spread out before me. parch -ment for something more. a whole wide world of words, and i have been given this one small (cage) (rage) (stage) …………………….page.     .. NaPoWriMo, … Continue reading

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snails with swords

medieval manuscript marginalia      … when the …….s     l     o     w sluggasluggaslugga of life leaves them wanting to slough off their shells, they take up sword and shield, coat of arms for one with none. she {poet, holding feathered … Continue reading

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leaving the lights on for you

    .. moon sugar smile spooned into sky drizzled in ebony scars, waning sun saffron lozenge on horizon’s tongue, sweet simmered day syllables rising   .. The Double Elevenie is a new-to-me form requested today over at NaPoWriMo, day … Continue reading

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Seedling the Sky

.. The stars will show you the way to press them deep, steep them in their own salt. The Three Sisters need a bit of extra water, a smidge of added laughter; then watch them giggle, grow. This plot of … Continue reading

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Overheard Overhead

{found poems in moon thought}   .. As far as mass goes, she’s a stone. No light of her own. The actual length, in flatrocks is waning. She’s shrinking, thinking. Looks prehistoric, right? She’s sky-wise and old bone tired. Wired … Continue reading

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In the Beginning was the Word.

.. In the beginning was the ………………………….word.   .. .. And the poet’s heart did swell, and quill her soul a quiet song. Longing to etch is somewhere safe, she confessed her need to the moon, who loaned her a … Continue reading

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Newton’s law of everything under this broken sun.

  Whisperwhy me something falling. Some taotruth of trees. Some breeze-bled moment(h)um. Brizzle me a skysong, a shambled shunthing I can keep in my most wordled pockets. The world’s gone mad and moonly, love, all warticked and wombled. We must … Continue reading

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