The Scent of Old Lemons & Stale Beer


This poem is a nap
-kin. Sister of the paper
towel, a place for blotting
lips and strategically placed
wine-stained rings, things
quickly written while under
the influence of one thing
or another.

May I have your number?
You can write it right here:



Mine is infinity some days
(that’s a side-slant 8, for those
of you keeping score at home),
ground right down to zero,
others. Call me



Written for Poetic Asides

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Hourglass Songs

Keep this under your hat, beneath your skin:
let’s begin as smashed hope and promise,
a small smidgen of something sound.
This stopwatch is set to ‘run’ –
maybe we’ll see our turn
and learn a thing or
two, one silenced
wisdom strum
we can

has its
way with us,
a shape all its
own, a face and hands.
It stands tall, runs out when
it pleases, throws sand in our
eyes and squeezes them shut as dark
stars. It mars its own skin with squares,
stares into the face of death and laughs deep.




Victoria has us writing 
Etherees over at dVerse
(I’m late to the party. My hourglass was broken.) Come play! 



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Waggling a Dodgeball Sky


We interrupt this regularly
scheduled broadcast to bring
you this small sting
of stars, this long string
(theory) of cars
headed straight out of the city.

Have you broken any laws as
of late? Gravity? Gravitas?
A brusque briskling of souls
against a new moon? Too soon,

you’ll notice our clear(d)ance
has expired, spiral-spired its
way south. Put the difference
in a measure chest and bury
it deep. Keep watch. Keep wax
-ing and waning and wonder
-wandering your own melted
way into the dusk.

Hey, nay
-bore, have I men
-shunned we got our sig(h)
-nals crossed as we tossed our
selves into a frisky sun?

He’s won, you know.
Burned us straight on
through to broken soul.

Simmer me, timbers.
We’re home.


Oh, you know. Just havin’ some fun with Miz Quickly




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A Sketchy Character


He drew his own arm once
with his own arm, stairs
going somewhere, anywhere,
nowhere and back again,
faces unspiraling into the
sky. Spheres. Birds, going
(South? North? East? West?
Which way are they going?)
somewhere soon. He blew
our minds with the endless
-ness of everything, illusion
of a world that just keeps
going, black and white
and yet still some-
how shining in an end
-less tampered mat of stars.
A second offering for Walt’s character sketch dVerse prompt. 

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Teen Lashes



**eye roll, eye roll**

She’s like, so totally over all the duh-rama,
already, like, so totally ready for summer to
get here.

**eye roll, eye roll**

She’s got hair that needs sun-kissed and
song lyrics to memorize and sketches to
draw and

**eye roll, eye roll**

like, Netflix to eye guzzle and texts
to LOL at and like, a million ideas
for redoing my

**eye roll, eye roll**

room, which I know we just redid but
I’m like, totally bored with it already
just like I will

**eye roll, eye roll**

be with summer, by the time
August rolls around because, you
know, like,

that’s just how
I roll.



Walt’s guest hosting over at dVerse Poetics, and we’re asked to do a character sketch. She’s a character, all right. And I❤ her. 

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flower dusk

Screenshot 2016-05-16 17.13.20


a 3rd Q44 offering for dVerse.
play magnetic poetry here (the “Nature” kit has the word “green” in it.) ;) 

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Girls in Green Dresses Under a Gargled Sky

They dance in significant
circle-sway, lull the moon to come
out to play, blow hope bubbles
and grin.

They begin the melting of
winter, the shimmer of spring,
summer served with a twist
and a hop-skip, too.

They green
their own sea
of blue.


A second offering for today’s Q44 over at dVerse.
This one uses all 9 quadrille words we’ve used so far. ;) 

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