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Tag Archives: clacking black
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
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
.. 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
.. just a line or two clacked against all this busy breeze. .. prompted by poetic asides
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
.. this pen these keys the long slow please -pull of coffee and precious pre-chaos dark. this spark and all its ancient fire and ice and storm and strum. the thrum of heart beat black and blue and clacked to … Continue reading
.. What is it we have learned from pebbled songs? Simply this: We are word warriors forming sacred battle lines just in (case)time for our brokenness to find a place to feel (g)rounde(d);lay its small unquiet secrets. We have a … Continue reading
I am scribbler, seeker, word scavenger. Flit and flutter, dot-to-dot soul. I will clack black, indigo, and make worlds of all this silence. A found poem scavenged from my own poem journal, for day 4 of Grace’s 28 days … Continue reading
This place, a lake. I see myself. I float my words. I plow black through silent snow and wait for echo. .. Cool prompt over at Poets United. Come play.