Tag Archives: November Chapbook Challenge 2017

It Comes Down to This

.. This part -icular poem would like to take it all back, retract her former selves and songs, let down her hair a little longer, be -long to another moon. She swoons for sea, and salt, but all this clacking … Continue reading

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 What I Meant To Say  

  I ate the plums to spite you which was probably why you left before breakfast Forgive me you were so mean and so cold   .. Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge, day 17. (With obvious nod to William Carlos … Continue reading

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Rewind

Say something, I’m giving up on you. – A Great Big World   ..   ………………………………………………..What I meant to say was that I meant to stay.     .. Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge, day 17. 

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Third Rock

(who laugh and cry)who dream,create and kill while the world moves;and every part stands still: – E.E. Cummings Here’s my arms we can hide today and love the world away. – Kenny Rogers   We all live in glass houses … Continue reading

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still trying to hug that blue-green marbled mess

i think that i have finally be -friended the dragon. she and i, we cool. we drool in fire and sky, and fly in the face of fear. she slays me with her wit, her will, her whim and want. … Continue reading

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Stranger than Dragons

A short-term effect an echo and a stranger’s hand – The Cure .. The clouds have teeth again, and the echo …………(echo, echo) of skin and talons on whale-sized bones. They breathe in great fire hands that reach for nothing … Continue reading

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Stranger than Dactyls and Trochees Dancing

… This poem might be a skeltonic spondee or an ….abecedarian ….ballad ….canto ….dirge. She might surge forth poetic in her own ghazal’d glory, or flarf in your general direction.  She’d take a volta for the better, except she forgot … Continue reading

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Toast

There’s things I remember and things I forget I miss you, I guess that I should Three thousand five hundred miles away But what would you change if you could? …I need a phone call I need a raincoat – … Continue reading

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Nothing

.. This poem is a tiny abandoned town in Arizona. Nobody lives here. We’re all just passing through. You’re better off in Wikieup or Wickenburg or even Bagdad – they might be glad to see ya, might have a phrase … Continue reading

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Widdershins

.. This poem used to be a butterfly, but now she’s a worm again, back in her own wiggling skin, without wings. Sometimes she s(t)ings to the touch, too much for just any ear to hear, too low a tone … Continue reading

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