Tag Archives: Sunday Whirl

this feckless, reckless sun

Posted on August 23, 2015 by whimsygizmo

.. give it one second too soon, a tardy moon, and there it goes rising, drunk on plum skywine and its own stained song. we stand dumbstruck and plucked like hapless flowers, less superior towers than all this light, this … Continue reading →

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Poetry Hiatus

Posted on August 4, 2015 by whimsygizmo

. Give me something I can use, some radiant blues and a matching breeze, something besides this river of bones, word stones longing for sharper teeth. Save me from these distant shallows, the mask that swallows up the rest of … Continue reading →

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Words, Led

Posted on May 6, 2015 by whimsygizmo

(an American sentence poem) .. Trite miles past, our spirit words cast spell, aim, sigh, scorch mind, chime, …………..maybe land. . wordled.

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Empty Science

Posted on May 2, 2015 by whimsygizmo

… We have cracked the a -cute code of pebbles, only to find them held (stones, sticks, stems) in curious pockets. We’ve un -locked the saintly track of angel wings, only to wrestle with the memory of their lift. It’s … Continue reading →

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Night Song

Posted on March 22, 2015 by whimsygizmo

…. We sleep in tongues, interpreters notwithstanding, paint indigo crosses in search of new be -ginnings. Your last dream was stolen wild by sunshine, rain, smashed clay po(e)ts cracking. Our greatest powers lie in these smithereened places, crescent scars under … Continue reading →

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Dissonance

Posted on March 16, 2015 by whimsygizmo

… We are born of plague and will and blasphemy, song and sigh. We are water turned to wine and other small miracles, sweet and dry. We tear ourselves from paper,        …….(scissors) rock, then long for whole. We wind ourselves … Continue reading →

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Whirled: Peace

Posted on March 9, 2015 by whimsygizmo

… The sting’s the thing, see? We trip on our own two feet, trample our own un -kneaded skin. We begin to make war love excuses , wind our clocks forward, back, keeping track of just exact -ly what? We … Continue reading →

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To Whom, Stones

Posted on March 1, 2015 by whimsygizmo

… We are empty veins, ghost and granite names, tabled flesh; weight of fear and howl circled through wrought iron tears.     .. Wordled.

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A Sliver of Silver in an Ebony Sea

Posted on December 15, 2014 by whimsygizmo

.. Luna -ticks off time, space, crafts tides. She treads on ocean, spreads her milky sway forever over each closed day. Say she’s a planet, she’ll laugh; an angel, she’ll shed you cloudy tangled tears. Call her a loser as … Continue reading →

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