Tag Archives: poetic asides poems

whether we write, or knot (daisy-chained phrase) we tie ourselves to moontoo soon, to storm too late. we debate ink over ocean swell. we tell ourselves the words won’t swim, fair-weathered whim will ragequit in mid-line.  we find ourselves a-dangle, participles waning. verbs complaining, tangled in theirown bright … Continue reading


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He loosed my muse from hair to shoes , gave me the will for wubulous whim and star-bellied glee. He had the Rx for making a mess of noun-sies and verb-ootles. He gifted me with oodles and oodles of ways … Continue reading

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What She’s Got

.. Not much more than what’s on her back, gettin’ back on track sometime next summer, perhaps. A song in her heart and an upturned, grateful face; anticipation of sunrise, and other graffiti’d grace.   .. Prompted by Poetic Asides.  … Continue reading

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i get nothing out of anything but moon

  but you were there, under all that glow , and in between the wax and wane. and night after night you spilled stars, and I sang my own name.   .. Prompted by Poetic Asides.     

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Everything’s Eventual

… The way the sky cracks open to the beat of her most unmetered feet. The way her heart tunes itself to a new moon with each dawn. The birdsong that builds her heart a home, fills her throat with … Continue reading

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Camels, Eyes & Needles

… It’s hump day, and she’s gotta say the piling up challenges of this desert place are starting to make her crazy. She’s dotted all the i’s and crossed more than t’s and tried to please the masses and the … Continue reading

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Err, Apparent

… She is holding an un -quiet dragon under her skin, the line -age of whom can be traced back many moons, monsoons and slow gulf stream storms. She has mumbled and fum -bled her way into some smallish spaces … Continue reading

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.. I won’t try to fix you , if you’ll just let me fly.   .. prompted by poetic asides.   

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Breathing Room

.. Make a ceiling of this sky, indigo in all its glory. Embrace the bound -aries of this room, this infinite space, this place we’ve been given to inhale and exhale and grow to know our -selves, each other. Gather … 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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