Tag Archives: Q44

DragonSongs

Posted on June 3, 2019 by

    We meter them out in fire, scaled down to last treble-clefted flick of tail and trail of smoke. The syllables sag and drag -on winded sails, caught between embered teeth. We store them in caves, and sand -castles, … Continue reading →

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wealthy ghosts

Posted on May 23, 2019 by

thing is, they’ve made the most of all this gossamer spirit-song, perhaps longed for gold, but found the sunrise to be the richest of all. and now, their needs are small, their voices proud – all banshee promise, spilled aloud … Continue reading →

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pretty how towns

Posted on May 6, 2019 by

we find ourselves (insideout, downside -up), in those places where anyone might call us (sunmoonstarsrain) crazy. tomorrow’s hazy, is it not? we’re daisy-chained, wind-caught, so why not? let’s hitch up our horses our heels our frowns , and take that … Continue reading →

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poker-faced moon

Posted on April 8, 2019 by

.. she’s got an ace up her sleeve, i can tell. she’s cast her spell upon this dark-spade sky, bluffed just enough to call us double-down-drowning in ebony, ivory-cloud, club-snubbed us the wrong way with glow. but I’m calling this … Continue reading →

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Hurricane Heart

Posted on March 11, 2019 by

.. I thought we were at war ………..before. The twister-tangled words, the crimson anger swirl, the broken glass. The hurt you hurled as you were leaving. The crash of anger -lightning, shattered zen. And then: this cloud (-stirred,shaken) ………..sky, spiked … Continue reading →

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sipping sunshine

Posted on February 26, 2019 by

.. , all that yellow jacket honey -coated daybreak, broken -open dawn. a yawn of moon aiding and a-bedding herself in snowy mountain morning duvet. a fray of sky fabric, billowed soft by breeze. …………………….shaken, …………………….stirred, whirred by one last … Continue reading →

Posted in moon poems, Quadrille | Tagged , , , , | 17 Comments

Silver Bells, Cockle Shells, Pretty Maids

Posted on February 11, 2019 by

my blood approves and kisses are a better fate than wisdom lady i swear by all flowers. – E.E. Cummings  .. She’s fussing about out there in the garden again, cussing out the flowers. Loves me, loves -me-nots, forget-me-dids. Shattered … Continue reading →

Posted in Quadrille | Tagged , , , , , , , | 30 Comments