Tag Archives: Q44
A second Quadrille offering, created at magnetic poetry.
she boasts a mane, after all, the right to call sun to center. white -petalled promises with up -roarious squalls of lovesme, lovesmenot. we’ve got her in our fists, given her too much power. spent hours hoping over flowered phrase, … Continue reading
won’t you spirit me away to moon or mountain or ocean sway, say that salt and sea are all we need? see, let’s just feel the breeze, squeeze ourselves into some smaller space, erase the fears. lace hands. scribble our … Continue reading
.. this poem may be habit-forming, causing the need to read others, wrestle pen. it’s a gateway scribble, really, that first taste of rhythm-rhyming zen you didn’t know you needed. to breathe. a smudge of sky. a wisp of why. … Continue reading
.. She has not yet learned a passion or pen -chant for pockets, boxes, jars or bins. Her heart: all chambers full to overflowing. And so she holds her breath in all the dry and quiet spaces, in keeping with … Continue reading
, we wish upon whatever we can scrounge: these shattered stars, the kitefluff of a drunken dandelion sun and one last candle’s kiss. It tastes like copper -penny fountains and a stolen horseshoe score, a broken silver skystone all aquiver … Continue reading