“You sure are nosy.”I was told as a child.Naive, not knowingI was in a placewhere you don’t ask questions.What parentwould be so heedlessas to drop me there?
Month: September 2024
#FF — A Tragic Mystery (with addendum)
PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox A Tragic Mystery In 1923, Big Moe is a giant in the world of grocers in Grand Rapids. Each Thursday, the Gustatory Gallavanters (GeeGees) meet at Moe’s Queen Anne style home for dinner and foodtalk. At exactly six, white-gloved servants begin bringing courses: steak tartare with raw egg; mandarin orange,…
POPO2024 Day 21
There are 7 fish in the tank.One is territorial,a passionate bully.She is afraid of nothingexcept me,the omnipotent deitywho stops once a dayto bring light and foodand passes by once in awhile.This morning, on my dailystop, I stayed.She froze in her cave.Six fish with full bellies.
POPO2024 Day 20
They say a house is like a person.This morning, after lookinginto a cupboard that is fullI find only half is crammedwith things I use.The other half is crammedwith things I used onceand might use again –but rarely or ever do.A house is like a person.
dVerse — Poetry Form Villonnet — Cool Verve
Cool VerveWhen gilded sunlight daubs the verve in fallA cooler brush upon one’s face and armsAs homely augur tickles with its charmsAlong meandered gardens do we walkWithin scorch rays and temps that burn us all,Tenaciousness unwelcome in its harms,An agent wakes, diminishes with smarm To gilded sunlight daubs cooled verve in fallLike feathers readied, gathered…
POPO2024 Day 19
if a man steals a loaf of breadbecause his family is starvingthey cut off his handbut if a man punches another,uses his hands to hurt,to touch or rape another,he gets a tap on the wristmad logic reasons intoinstitutions of powerto subjugate and controlthe massesto shield empty-eyed monsterswhat density of darkness must be in the soulsof…
dVerse — Poetics — Traversing the Hexagrams
Traversing the HexagramsHis grizzled, stooped form wheezesfrom the back porch, pleading.The small girl looks, still in sandbox,from across the yard, refusing.She nods, beaten, in the kitchen.Uncle, brother, and a game friend goto pound him and his mouthy brother;her stuff in the bed of rusty truck.Pale, weak, she signs the waiversthat will excise cursed rotten pear,symbol…
