Tag Archives: November Chapbook Challenge 2018

one more for the road

.. we’re told we don’t have to go home, but we can’t stay here, and so we disappear , soaked in star-spilled scrim and rum -bled phrase.     .. Whew. And November is through. Many kudos to all who … Continue reading

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i can’t imagine her wild

{mood ring: forgiveness, and other disasters} i. midnight-maroon, for her darkest hour swoon, her great craving for protest and anti -hate, war. ii. gun metal gray for her weary worn heart and its shaky veins, brave un -broken beat. iii. … Continue reading

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This poem is carrying a sign  

that says it’s busy, working its ast -*erisk off, worth its salt. It’s tired of being underpaid for scribbling storms and pen-painting darkest hour dawns. This poem is highly motivated and power hungry. It is glorious in its gregarious -ness, … Continue reading

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Papering the Sky

.. Be -hold the sun, flush with first blush of day , an unquiet con ……….(artist) -trail of clouds, pass -ing by too soon , the dry rub spark of dark stars, this toxic oxy -mo(r)on. .. In November, we … Continue reading

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Pick Up Sticks

.. One, two Grab your shoes, we’re about to head out into the forest. And there are wolves. Three, four Shut the door. The boogeyman comes out ……..(hungry, quiet) after darkest night. And we just might fool him into thinking … Continue reading

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Broken Chalk

.. This poem got dropped on its head on the way over here, and there is perhaps nothing left but dust. But it’s periwinkle magic, so you’ll trust me when I say that you should read it, anyway.   .. … Continue reading

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Chipped Saucers, Tiny Spoons

.. I stop by for a cup of tea and a song, but instead she says We are all a little broken , and I know she’s right, that the glory of us, of this place is in our scars, … Continue reading

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