Tag Archives: Poetic Asides
(after William Carlos Williams) .. so much depends upon the polka-dotted ladybug flitting to and fro, finishing the sentences. .. Prompted by Poetic Asides.
.. She waits under a shattered sky for something to crack loose, fly into her waiting soul – some syllable of song, some righted wrong, some dragon tail of hum -bled phrase that might unlock the sun. She plays the … Continue reading
It’s not my birthday, but I’m wearing my suit and making a point. Call me Gift from God, call me Tressed Rider, call me crazy. But history shall give me more power than the steed between my legs. .. … Continue reading
.. We’ve known all along that we are building something from nothing, that each click together is all part of the design. We know dropped bricks mean sore soles, and that the instructions are long gone. We know the … Continue reading
She left pieces of her life behind her everywhere she went. It’s easier to feel the sunlight without them, she said. – Brian Andreas .. This poem is my missing pieces. The grief. The shame. The same small dreams I … Continue reading
.. , this poem is a long lost song on tip of tongue, a memory rising as mist or smoke. a broken bottle scattered, not yet smoothed to sea glass. the jagged syllables of a name that once mattered. a … Continue reading