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.. 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
.. there’s a very good chance she’s gonna write something. turn a phrase around on her tongue until it tastes just right. never sneeze only once. have the hiccups daily. call the sky her friend. fall in love with the … Continue reading
… We fill ourselves with ink and sighs, pull parchment from the nearest tree. Clack keys. Please: here’s my heart. Can you read it? Hold it softly. It tears. It’s salty and sometimes it swears. It’s got cracks. See the … Continue reading