Tag Archives: tiny poems

fill me, quill me

,  for my fingers are feeblesmall sisters that cannot sayanything by them-selves.

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the sacred language of dawn

  the coffee sends smoke signals.   tree shadows sign language song.  the breeze whispers me poems.  PAD day 14.

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17 syllables

for when the day has been wall-to-wall wonder, too sunset-struck for words.  :: PAD Challenge, day 11.

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the first grimace of a fractured moon

has us grinning, too and fused to the dancefloor of this star-stung sky. 

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if you had 8 arms, you’d understand

(i think),why i must go with the flow of the ocean and all that                                                 ink.  :: written for poetic asides November chapbook challenge.

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total loss for words

The sky’s a sheer black slate of broken stars, a cold moon holding her tongue.     .. An American Sentence. {in april we poem.}   

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of rearview, and regret

… this poem wishes she was just a little longer slower stronger more open more hopin’ or maybe just closer than she appears. .. in april we poem.       

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a poem

.. is a massive thought sometimes caught in a tiny box.     …. in april we poem.       

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the unknown tomorrows of smallish dragons

blurrrrsday again, and the be -fuddlement continues. we know not what these hours might hold, nor how we shall knit them together to make a quilt of promise. but still we don our brightest tutus and most audacious ………………..clouds, as … Continue reading

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blue-green marbled mayhem

.. we’re r   e  e   l   i   n   g. .. she’s ………healing.     .. in april, we poem. no matter what.   

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