Tag Archives: storms

Because I have not had my fill of falling

Posted on February 10, 2020 by

  , I am taking off my shoes and standing barefoot at the edge of it all once again, shouting nonsense-something to my echo-self and asking her to keep me company, fill this lonely void with laughter’s roar until the … Continue reading →

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have a tiny umbrella in your pocket

Posted on November 29, 2019 by

, because every day carries at least one small storm.     .. In November, we poem.        

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when the wind whispers to the moon

Posted on November 26, 2019 by

, he says there’s a storm on the way. buckle down, get strong. she says i’m already strong. unties her belt and begins to dance.     . In November, we poem. 

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How to build a storm shelter

Posted on November 25, 2019 by

Make a steadfast structure of the sharpest stars. Woo a storm. Then spill a poem.   .. In November, we poem.       

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Midway through the storm

Posted on November 15, 2019 by

, we warm ourselves on lightning rods. We rumble thunder across our skin, begin in raindrops. We thin the skies with contemplated clouds, and sing aloud our own singed songs. We’re tornado-strong and tumbled. We’re hurricane-half -way there, and helterskeltered … Continue reading →

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Poseidon’s Promise

Posted on November 14, 2019 by

                         Allow this naked sea to ……………………………………..rock you fast asleep, and I will hold ………………………….your storms.     .. In November, we poem.   

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breathing in syllables

Posted on November 12, 2019 by

(a shadorma) .. here there be dragons and rain-fire, summer storm and spring fall; the way the sky slants sideways, a small cloud of flight.   ..In November, we poem. Sometimes, in form. This one’s a shadorma.     

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The Inevitable Frailty of Umbrellas

Posted on November 10, 2019 by

  ..  We have yet to decide where to hide under all these colorful skins. We get ready, get set, but we’re still gonna get a little bit wet.   .. In November, we poem.   

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Seeing ourselves in raindrops

Posted on November 10, 2019 by

  ..  We watch the rain reflecting all our falling, puddling all our pain. .. In November, we poem. Sometimes, a day late.     

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Catastrophes

Posted on November 8, 2019 by

.. These are sacred storms, these places where we warm our tattered selves; survivor fires. We’re dog-eared, tired and ready to unleash some small thing from within that just might rebuild this broken, battered sky. .. In November, we poem. … Continue reading →

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