Category Archives: November Chapbook 2022

and the sky played on 

Posted on November 30, 2022 by whimsygizmo

she never knew the moon was made of music, orion belting out the blues.  and then she flew, mad as midnight, wild as stars. ::In November, we poem.

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Posted on November 29, 2022 by whimsygizmo

The Sun’s Up Again  And the world keeps turning and the sky keeps squawking and I swear you  just keep talking, while the geese fly by like little white lies.  Catch one for me, and wring its neck.  I dare you.  ::In November, we poem.

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True North and Other Quiet Lies 

Posted on November 29, 2022 by whimsygizmo

The compass says we’re therebut I still feel the pull of something greater, some crater in my soul that says we’ve got a ways to go.  We wake. We give. We grieve. We take. We’re born. We mourn all those livesthat could be ours.  And we … Continue reading →

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Posted on November 28, 2022 by whimsygizmo

Re:Mused (the one with all the titles)  for want of wings, here in the resolve of remaining, (with Poe, of trees),we are shaking out the down placing deliberate storms in bold pockets, found poems of Icarus waning,  moonsquabble myths of moon.   (come, o better fates) assessment: after all … Continue reading →

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Shaking out the Down 

Posted on November 26, 2022 by whimsygizmo

“I am a feather for each wind that blows.” William Shakespeare :: Look up, the sky’s a fluffered songof promise. A float of hope.  Let’s make ourselves a small and quiet place to gather these loose quills caught.  **Cue the lightning.** On second thought, let’s not. … Continue reading →

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Deliberate Storms 

Posted on November 25, 2022 by whimsygizmo

A maelstrom stirs in her chest,poorly born concave shell.  Damn, but this land’s a swung          (sprung) place to watch lightning fingers jigsaw the sky.  ::Quickly, day 25.

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Pockets

Posted on November 23, 2022 by whimsygizmo

My daughter (grown, not yet flown) asks me why I need so many and I try to explain that I am still carrying my childhood phone number, six jingles from the 80s, a tiny sprinkle of Tahoe sand,and a look she gave mewhen she was 15. And … Continue reading →

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Icarus Waning 

Posted on November 22, 2022 by whimsygizmo

I know the feeling, Sir.  Of chutzpah,hubris, and unheeded warnings.  Of flapping full tilt into a too-bright sun.  .  Of falling  in love with this broken (open) sky.  ::In November, we poem.

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Origami Paper Passed in Bio 101 

Posted on November 22, 2022 by whimsygizmo

This is not a love poem.  I don’t care how many          (red, red) roses you send or ways you countor   (loves me, loves me) knots you tie or body electrics you sing.  See, here’s the thing: (the root of root andbud of bud and what -not)  (what passions, … Continue reading →

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Found Poem 

Posted on November 21, 2022 by whimsygizmo

We gather things: tender buttons, bits of string, sea glass, chimneysweep soot.  It’s not the stuff of dreams, but it holds us. The murmur of morning, the tick-toxic cluck of clock.  A wayward word. Some lint left overfrom yesterday’s storm.  ::In November, we poem.

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