freckle deep so swirled the spell blood hues imbued canvas infused a treasure tell languid cloak fold upon fold texture behold master stroke hourglasses tell soulblasted veneer etched forgery – tear, one by one, fell senses asleep heart overwrought account overdrawn on love a freckle deep Mish is the host of dVerse today. Mish…
Category: dverse
dVerse — Poetics: Movement — Travelers
image link Gaia scoops water from our cursed lands Crops turn to ashes, our home turns to dust Our cow lies dying, her face scored with sand Small Goji’s abed, his fevered face flushed Vultures in dead orange tree, our hopes crushed We pack our possessions with trembling hands Coin enough left, train fare…
dVerse — Prosery #2 — Queen of the Great Lakes
Thunderstorms pushed my small sailboat ever farther from shore. Superior, cold, deep, held skeletons — ships and people – long picked clean by pike and sturgeon, on its sandy feet. Dusk crept into the blackened maelstrom. I remember feeling an overpowering weariness and turning my fate over to the Queen of the Great Lakes; my…
dVerse — Dizain — Respite
photo by Jean Beaufort One afternoon Harriet disappeared Visible but she was no longer there The moment had come she had always feared The she she was simply no longer cared Who she pleased or didn’t or how they fared Lila now, such adventures she had planned First to Red Rocks and her favorite band…
#MM — Photo Challenge — Ship of Fools and dVerse — On Climate Crisis
– sound-dream @ tumblr Ship of Fools God’s ten thousand things Elements that swirl Oasis in space This dear ship of fools Rusty and leaking Decades of misuse Hellbent destruction As we build our tombs Rabid lemmings run* Deny there’s an edge Idiocy’s race Bullets in the gun Pointed at Earth’s head Afterlife to come…
dVerse — Poetics on Climate Crisis — Prisoner of War
WARNING: This one is dark. If dark bothers you, please skip, ok? image link Strung up, suspended by cosmic cords of evil, Mother Gaia hangs upside down Ankles raw oozing wounds where human maggots feast Bore 16 affixed in her jugular, draining, draining Her tender frame, ever-shaved, sour sweat sizzling under Sol’s gaze Mouth…
dVerse — quadrille — Gold to Straw
image link Moe, street corner barber, cuts hair for free on Tuesdays. Jonah, who lives in a nearby alley, sits. Fabio hair, dumptruck face cut locks glimmer like falling spun gold in sun. Piles of straw land. Spell now broken, the frog hops away. Grace is the host of dVerse today. Grace says: For…
