Tag Archives: November Chapbook Challenge 2019

Mr. Midnight and Mrs. Moon

.. He’s got her swooning again, dipping her toes in horizon dark, slow disappearing and playing her part in this star-stung waltz. He’s got her waning again, making less of her -self by degrees, crescent -cutting tangled trees and startled … Continue reading

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There and Back Again

.. This poem is ….(light) -headed to the moon to the corner to the ends of the earth. She’s putting the pedal to the metal and her nose to the grind and her head in the clouds. She’s got a … Continue reading

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Striking Sky

.. God’s taking full -flash photos again and it all rips open in a zigzag stab of gold cracking black in half, all clacking cymbals and flickered blaze. Our gaze is broken by thunder, struck by time, backlit by the … Continue reading

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Grand Opening at the Tiny Used Bookstore Down the Street

.. It’s tomorrow, and we can already smell the pages and the ages and ages of yesterday’s stories in between: For Mary, Merry Christmas 1956 Lisle, with all my love, George See page 37. – Farley Happy Birthday, Darling. 1979 … Continue reading

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open palms

.. we raise our eyes to sky and beg the dawn to …….(warn) warm us, swarm us in a buzz of long-bewildered song: more hope, less sting. see, here’s the thing: either way, i’ll stand here ………arms akimbo, palming psalms. … Continue reading

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Nightingale

-force winds knock us loose from our moorings  and we wander (wonder) in the waves awhile, forsaking the dawn. The song. The way our wings want to angle toward the sun. The fray of feathers that no longer fly. There’s … Continue reading

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Night Rain

  .. , and the sky is falling in skywater shards, and stars.   .. In November, we poem. ..  

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Three Peace Suits

.. The triathlon begins with a prayer and a song, then the long long swim, a skim of open palms through water, a baptism of sweat and soul. The cycle continues, all speed and wind and whistling wheels. She feels … Continue reading

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Sevenling: a poem of t(h)rees

  A poem of t(h)rees should begin perhaps with black ash, paper birch, scar -let oak. It would stretch skyward in the lightning of open palm, crepe myrtle, and weeping willow’d sway, to teach us the root-word ways of endings. … Continue reading

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Naming Storms

… Hurricanes are christened alphabetically, …..male …female, ………even …odd and the big ones get retired: Andrew, Katrina, Sandy. I read their headlines, ink my fingers in their bruised skies , and long to spill my own torn -ado’d heart, label … Continue reading

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