Tag Archives: jars of clay

this poem is a smallish smudge

.. that just won’t budge, or swim, or take a decent bath. it’s stained in both strained peas and song, the quiet longing of a scrib -bled cloud. it leaks out loud, of ink and salt and ‘not my fault’ … Continue reading

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Of Cottages and Clouds

Fisherman’s House at Varengeville, by Monet. . It’s loud, this salt. This briny ribbon breeze blown in, tinged with turquoise and pastel time. She’s shaped a world of quiet seafoam clay, steeped the day in parchment sky and silence. Come. … Continue reading

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(a found poem) .. I was a sprinter, an old poem in need of revision; too many straws, not enough scarecrows. I remember the color of sorrow, sorcery, …..sorry spilled on bar napkins, Moses on the mountain, communion for one. … Continue reading

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