Tag Archives: stones

conspiring with dragons 

forgive us, but we’ve become members with their embers. we are also in cahoots with the grass -roots efforts of faeries, and flowers. we now spend hoursand hours scheming with that sky and her conniving moon.  all this cons-piracy has caused us to paint our sails with … Continue reading

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poem stitched in sidewalk chalk 

this poem is neither here nor there,line nor square               (one).  she has scrib-bled her-self in sidewalk chalk, and then hopscotched across her own bright skin,left just one small skipping stone within.  shhh.she’s still here,still stained. waiting for rain.  :: In April, we poem. This is also a second … Continue reading

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sticky stones 

we say they gather nothingas they roll (moss, or otherwise)but what if we surmise that they gather all? stream droplets and moon shine and the drunken breeze that sends them spinning, or the sea glass shards that keep them sitting fast in their own decline.  they gather tears, … Continue reading

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Wayward Thrones and Pocket Stories 

Weary of glass (ceilings, slippers, houses) ,we turn ourselves to stone instead, our bare feet mud-luscious in their riverbeds.  We pebble stories, toss them in.  The moon’s a diamond we are tired of rolling uphill,so we cut her into slices and shine.  It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse, and I’m hosting. … Continue reading

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bee moon

  magnetic poetry

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Oh, the marvelous beat of skipping feet

.. Won’t you hopscotch walk with me? We have a moon to catch, and she is waiting for us to 1-2-3 our fumbled feet right up into her gold-spilled shine. Sit here, curb -sighed, and wander-wild. We’ll hold our breaths … Continue reading

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Riposte for a Curious Sky

.. What is it we have learned from pebbled songs? Simply this: We are word warriors forming sacred battle lines just in (case)time for our brokenness to find a place to feel (g)rounde(d);lay its small unquiet secrets. We have a … Continue reading

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the quiet keening of smallish stones

.. we throw them in as wishes, just to see some change in the surface of things, just to watch the ripples rise. we revel in their displacement, the way they sway the river’s path, make bur -bled song of … Continue reading

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Writing in Dust

She stood {still}, silenced by their judgment, His grace. They dropped their stones because he bade them cast the first.   . twiglet #63. Inspired by the story of a woman from John 8 of the Bible.   

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Smashed Word Broken

let all go – the big small middling tall bigger really the biggest and all things – let all go dear so comes love – E.E. Cummings   .. I am shedding my old skins again. Onion to apple, just … Continue reading

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