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Category Archives: Quadrille
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
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
this poem is neither here nor there,line nor square (one). she has scrib-bled her-self in sidewalk chalk, and then hopscotched across her own bright skin,left just one small skipping stone within. shhh.she’s still here,still stained. waiting for rain. :: In April, we poem. This is also a second … Continue reading
There’s a lone crow on a power (trip) line, squawking about somethingor other, and we’ve discovered there is nothing left to say. Somehow, we are both here (there, anywhere, nowhere) too lateand too soon. Our only remaining evidence: this chalk outline moon. :: It’s Quadrille Monday over at … Continue reading
spring flings in; we twirl and spin between the limbs and dance our -selves silly. the sky’s addicting. maybe we’re high on dandelion fluff. maybe we’ve achoo’d our way to sun. whatever the reason,we’ve decided spicy’s just fine for any scribbledseason. :: It’s Quadrille Monday over at dVerse, and … Continue reading
, we (bold) blow our breaths loose and wonderwish a way to say the stilted phrases,scattered phases of our long-lost selves. we sold our souls for a star,and we’re sorry. we hold our breaths for a silver-sliver of moon, a shiver of silence. :: It’s Quadrille Monday over at dVerse, and … Continue reading
She’s a wily one-der, all curled up crescent like a soon-hiding moon. She swoons at sea, sirened only by salt. (But she can barely swim and gets con-fused.) Eyes closed, we clack. For our own (sanity) sake, we eat cake. And are not a-mused. :: … Continue reading
, at the Careen Canteen. Zip-zoom into something sipped, from sun-kissed chamomile tea to rum -bled phrase on the rocks, times three. Come on in, here’s a g(r)inwith a hint of wry. Before last call, we’ll shakeit all (fears, hope) into a slow-stirred sky. It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse, and … Continue reading
Quadrille #2. Come play! Play magnetic poetry here.