Tag Archives: sun

bitter sky

Posted on September 15, 2020 by whimsygizmo

Play magnetic poetry here.

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stone stroll

Posted on September 10, 2020 by whimsygizmo

  play magnetic poetry here.       

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hang a left when you get to the moon

Posted on April 29, 2019 by whimsygizmo

she’ll show you the way to wane, to whim the hands of time to darker sides. go straight for the stars, dot-to-dot math a path to that horizon haze, and hold the day loosely in pin-pricked points. sway right at … Continue reading →

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Papering the Sky

Posted on November 19, 2018 by whimsygizmo

.. Be -hold the sun, flush with first blush of day , an unquiet con ……….(artist) -trail of clouds, pass -ing by too soon , the dry rub spark of dark stars, this toxic oxy -mo(r)on. .. In November, we … Continue reading →

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Run Four (and a Little More)

Posted on August 24, 2017 by whimsygizmo

in the humidity. in the humility. in the hummm-idity of a new day. through the rainy breeze. through the whispering trees. through the raging seas of your own crazy brain. run four (and a little more) to clear your mind. … Continue reading →

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Holding Only Breath

Posted on June 6, 2017 by whimsygizmo

.. Ah, silence. The greatest violence the morning alarm, the storm of only her own unquiet skin. A single-serve sun also rises, and she swallows it whole just to sing its shine. The melting moon her only concern, …….caller, companion. … Continue reading →

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Still Pondering Crows

Posted on March 16, 2017 by whimsygizmo

.. She knows there are other things to pause and poem (the light in that window there, the flapping rooster man on the corner, the whisper of snails) , but she cannot seem to get past the ebony apostrophes of … Continue reading →

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Scrabbling the Sun

Posted on January 24, 2017 by whimsygizmo

… We scar it with our own lettered shine, crescent it with moon fingers. Stairway it in stars. A it. B it. See it through new eyes. Vowel it deep; steep it into some semblance of silence. We tornado our … Continue reading →

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Slanted Aubade

Posted on January 19, 2017 by whimsygizmo

{It Dawns on Her} .. Oh, that damn sun comes up again. And coffee fills her cup again and one day’s not enough again and it’s all kind of getting under her skin. The adieu of moon, the tilted sky. … Continue reading →

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Five tiny stories in poem pockets

Posted on January 18, 2017 by whimsygizmo

.. Nothing bitter. No coffee, no cold -heart stare, no chairs without comfort. No root. No soot. Nothing batter. No waffles. No pan -cakes, no average. No pitch black night with softball stars. Nothing bit her. Not the love bug … Continue reading →

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