Tag Archives: tiny stories in poem pockets

The Day Our Stories Got Short

..   We used to talk tall -tales, surface trails of circle flow going no -where. These last small drips of us, this end, these stilted st(r)ands of hope, they’re fleeting. Just this: our beating hearts.   .. Wordled.    … Continue reading

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Urban Girl

… There’s a scare -city here of silence, a st(r)um -bling of sounds grumbling ’round her (l)edges. The clock ticks her off; the calendar boxes her into a corner, chides. She hides tiny stories in poem pockets, waits ……………………for rain. … Continue reading

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