Tag Archives: clacking black

future music 

a symphony of sunlighta melody of moona whispered whir of trees a warble a murmura burble  (and still) the clack-patter of keys  and she (limbs raised to sky) will live there in that shanty by the sea.  ::In November, we poem. Quickly.

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Clacking Back 

The morning speaks in cobblestone braille and snail trail goo. You might think my toes would have a go at it all, but my fingers are  what’s itchy. Twitchy with time and not enough time and rhyme that isn’t  jiving. Arrival’s easy; it’s staying that’s a trick. … Continue reading

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poem in peril 

help!  she’s running from the dactyls again, fleeing her own parchment skinand huddling between the lines.  she’s been participle dangled and meter-mangled and nearly strangled  (but wits intact) by stanza. in fact, she left us a syllabled s-o-s,and I fear it’s no joke, see?  cuz just when you think she’s … Continue reading

Posted in November Chapbook 2022 | Tagged , , , , , , | 5 Comments

this poem is unpunctual, at best 

And I couldn’t tell, if anyone here was feeling the way I doBut I’m lonely now, and I don’t know howTo get it back to good– Matchbox Twenty  she is approximately 751 days behind the eight ball the last call the deadline that fine line between … Continue reading

Posted in April PAD 2022 | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

an etched scratch scrape in a twisting sky

this poem is a tightly wound spring. she’s a  taut wound caught up in clacked-black things.  she’s got unspoken broken and unscattered seed, unpolished corners and unmet needs.  she’s a wayward kite on a fragile string. let’s unwind her now, and let her sing.  Lill’s given us a fun … Continue reading

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muse me

say hey bard-tender, won’t you please pour me a straight up shot (in the arm) (in the dark) of some rum-bled phrase?  fuse me (shaken, stirred) a word or two to spill, some cocktail napkin poems to fill the time.  lose me to the page, the space -bar rage of fingers flying and syllables sighing in … Continue reading

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this poem

she’s a blank sheet, waiting. a quiet screen longing to scream. some black-throne keys to clack, attack the day. she’s smudge on snow, you know. a black blinking portal  door signaling for more (words, phrases,time.) she is paper ghost haunting every  smoky line. she’s … Continue reading

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Striking Sky

.. God’s taking full -flash photos again and it all rips open in a zigzag stab of gold cracking black in half, all clacking cymbals and flickered blaze. Our gaze is broken by thunder, struck by time, backlit by the … Continue reading

Posted in Poetic Asides Chapbook Challenge 2019, scribbling storms, storms | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

tiny poem

.. just a line or two clacked against all this busy breeze. .. prompted by poetic asides

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shhhhh…there’s only time for tiny poems

and so she clacks a wee small bit of black in the margins. smudge. sway. it is no great secrecy that she wishes for more, longs to store the rest of the world away and shout the things on her bursting heart. … Continue reading

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