Tag Archives: writing on writing
.. they scoffed at us for swallowing that sun -flower dream, for holding our breaths in the snow. we’ve gathered so much more than loose-leaf scenes; we know these syllables might just stand on their own. and so we pick … Continue reading
.. , and silent salt. The squawking cry of hungry gulls. The broken praise of trees. She’s on her knees in dark -est hour, bone-tired and waiting. Forgive her, Father (Son, and wholly long-loved ghost); at most, she’s brave. She’s … Continue reading
.. S(p)ring a silly song, be-fuddle me a muddy-muse, so we can s(t)ring along. Cuddleme a cloud-phrase, huddleup in hiccup-daze; hunkerdown in puddle-praise, zipcrunchleap a poem. Fa-La-La a lullaby(e), fall into a murmured sky. Ink. Don’t think. And don’t ask why. … Continue reading
.. So a strophe and a spondee walk into a bar (all widdershins & collywobbles); and the dactyl’s all like, Iamb thirsty, and the other two know just what to do, so they get ’im a drink to ghazal. (And … Continue reading
This place, a lake. I see myself. I float my words. I plow black through silent snow and wait for echo. .. Cool prompt over at Poets United. Come play.
… Now I lay me down these lines, this small crown of words. Rest inside these ground ink stains, where I’m found in verbs, in the throes of noun and syllable, bound; soul-stirred. .. Victoria has us playing with the lai … Continue reading