Tag Archives: ink

fill me, quill me

,  for my fingers are feeblesmall sisters that cannot sayanything by them-selves.

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i am

bic, some rhythm’d pen -sive soul etching cloudwords to ivory sky.  landlocked mermaid, dry scales thirsting for ocean, ink.  thinking; thanking. drinking in the rum-bled scribbled scrambled  song of some language i no longer speak. i am tossing letters (spaces)  to the breeze and hoping some bright bird catches them … Continue reading

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letters to smallish dragons

  we scribble tiny syllables and tuck them between these bright petaled teeth, unsheath our quill-swords and pen the truth in praise and song. they long to be spangled in our word-skins, I think, saturated satiated in wee-stemmed ………………..ink.   … Continue reading

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Against the Strand

.. Three blackbirds etch their signature across a sapphire shore swollen with sunlight. She quills her own song in the snow with tail feathers and broken ink.   .. Prompted by toads. The word group I worked up was: swollen   … Continue reading

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spilt ilk

… she’s of that kind that likes ink, the spill of it, the thrill of it, the will of it to smear itself to page in love or tears or rage. she’s cut from indigo sky-cloth, swathed in cloudskin. Trimmed … Continue reading

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scrubbing at the stain

.. we spill. ink, tears, sweat. over. under. through. yet, we fill our hours with the crazy can-do fog of sigh and silence, offer violence a safehouse of strange. we change ourselves for nothing. expect some thing to fill the … Continue reading

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Of Inchworms&Ink

… I think (got an inkling in my inmost being) that this incredible …….afternoon inspires the intricacies of phrase and the indulgence of in -direct sunlight (that ingot of sky fire in solar plexus.) In spite of my initial interjection … Continue reading

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the girl hates bios, mirrors. loves the sky.

… she is sans serif 10-point type, often italicized never bold. she is onion paper see-through skin. easily erased, truth untold. she’s scribbled whim and ellipsis salt, ridiculous blessings, cacophonous grace. she’s words in margins, indigo fire. moon swallowed, sunset … Continue reading

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Aerial View

. She’s a mer -maid who’s been swallowed by the pinpoints of the map. She’s un -flapped by cranial tuna, ……..freeway flotsam and jets -aimed for better ………places, but the traces of high -way ink on her skin are holding … Continue reading

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