Tag Archives: ekphrastic

With Munch Foresight

How did the guy who painted The Scream know 2020+ would be such a bad dream?  Still catching up, with Sunday’s poem.

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The Art of Going West toward Ottawa with a Complete Forgery of Vermeer’s ‘The Little Street’ in Our Trunk, After the Rain Stops Once Again

{for Grandma Moses} . Don’t stop when we get to the border, no matter how shaken , stirred we are by this heisted hum. Don’t mourn that moon behind us, or this star-scarred sky, or that sinister shade of blue. … Continue reading

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Vermeer & Vermouth

  We traipse the halls and wander the walls, …………………shaken, …………stirred by oil and blur.   .. In April, we poem. 

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Wandering This Museum Floor, Barefoot

.. Some things aren’t meant to be known, but we have grown them deep, from seed, and whispered them into pearl-earring portraits. How do we stop ourselves from becoming melting clocks? Abandoned suitcases on paintbrushed stairs, empty chairs at ramshackle … Continue reading

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Because she has grown from this turquoise scrim,

  She braids her roots into the stars, a triumph of chimneys at her crown. She ponders petals and sparrows, casts the moon, and pins it down.   .. Image by artist Catrin Welz-Stein Inspiring prompt from over at dVerse Poetics today, … Continue reading

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snails with swords

medieval manuscript marginalia      … when the …….s     l     o     w sluggasluggaslugga of life leaves them wanting to slough off their shells, they take up sword and shield, coat of arms for one with none. she {poet, holding feathered … Continue reading

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Shopping in the DepARTment

Mi Young Lee .. There’s a little blue heart that speaks to me, a chalkdust squiggle, a mustard smudge. For all the things that are yet to come, I’ll choose that giant colon : or that little green apostrophe, for … Continue reading

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Made of Stars and Paper Skin

Japanese print maker, Kaoro Kawano (1916 – 1965).   She’s tressed in umber and the scattered spill of sky. She holds the earth still; turns her face into the sun, as woodpeckers braid her hair.   .. an ekphrastic tanka, for Toads.  … Continue reading

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suspended moment

(a leaky bit of moonlight)   under a dark-haired driven threadbare quilted sky, driven bursts of clawing breath and the muted cry of unglazed small -boned crows dreaming murder, death – muffled blooms and fretful sleep.   .. Cool visual … Continue reading

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{Of words, and eggs}

Photo by Emily Blincoe   …   Perhaps they (the words, the eggs) crave ……..(kingdom, phylum, class,) order in some fiber of their being: shell, albumin, yolk. Or maybe they (these words, those eggs) enjoy the way we like them … Continue reading

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