Tag Archives: November PAD

Night Sky Falling

.. Indigo. Then ink -spilled ebony, scrim-spreading like a long slow darkened smile. Midnight, and the wink of pinprick flitting star -lings, and a half-lidded moon.   .. November PAD, day 11. 

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Call Me Home {with this One Last Whisper}

.. Ishmael, wandering half ……..brother, late for dinner, son of a birch tree. Root. Leaves. Call me daughter, mother, ……lover, friend. Moon, stars, ……sky. Sea. Everything, …..nothing. And all things in between.     .. November PAD, day 9. 

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the more things

though life’s lived wrongsideout,sameness chokes oneness – E.E. Cummings, love’s function is to fabricate unknownness    .. that we pile upon our piles and while away with worry and squander in our selfish pockets the more strings attached the more … Continue reading

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Broken-Winged Aubade

.. See the raven, black against night’s last indigo blush, one lone smudged note waiting on a wire. The sinking moon’s an echoed ache of loss and longing; the sky’s a broken song.     .. November PAD, day 5.  … Continue reading

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if i’d only listened to the hum of my own heart

.. , perhaps i might have stopped trying to name my song, before the middle strains were done. perhaps i might have wanted less, and wand -ered more, roamed the floors of my own hope. perhaps i might have stored … Continue reading

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