Bird FeederYou’re so proud of yourself,trudging out in all weatherhauling sacks, scooping seeds,fastly passioned to our bellies;yet banshee-chasing squirrels,who, also famished, draw nearto sup. We, more worthy when, despite being adoring parents,remain steadfastly willful ostricheswhen our wobble-headed offspring with dark-pennied, yet-to-be-eyespeck until death their siblings?We, with our sharp-horned beaksand prehistoric reptilian feet,twitter at your ignorant…
Category: dverse
dVerse — Haibun Monday — Groundhog Day
It is a summer day walking along the winding path of the former golf course that is being re-wilded into a nature preserve. The property sits adjacent to another nature preserve, which also has a wildlife sanctuary, education center, sugar shack, and community garden. It is a separate entity but is also considered a welcomed…
dVerse OLN 377 — Note to Myself
Gertrude Abercrombie’s, “Where or When (Things Past)” (1948), oil on canvas, 21 1/2 x 35 1/2 inches. Image courtesy of the Carnegie Museum of Art and Colby Museum of Art, shared with permission Note to Myself A small, tall door left,in space wherehorizon cuts offat legless knees.Reflexes subdued,tethered to lobotomizing deaf.Paralyzed marionette,holding strings,manifest myself rearing…
dVerse Poetics — Skinnamarink Surreality
Nose hairs crackle in minus.One degree less and the whole thing blows.‘Cause cold means COLD.Even equators know that. In 1972, I still rememberyou were the town crone —and our summer thrill. Your name is given,but it is up to youwhether or not to use it.If you do, what it meansis for you to choose,not the…
dVerse — Q216 — Can you guess who I am?
Can you guess who I am? Hints: Matte, sparkled with prism upon flat or contoured terrain; edged by windsways, pert chirps, your grateful eyes under unshrouded bright.Wavy, opaque cylinders drip away gentle rhythm to my welcome cameo that dispels shivery moodsgloom fleesmakes wayto feel, re-embracehope. Michelle Beauchamp, aka Mish, is today’s host of…
dVerse — Prosery (2nd one) — Brimmed
where can we find light in this never-ending shade? –From Amanda Gorman, “The Hill We Climb” Brimmed The kris glitters under fluorescence in the green room. “I’ll cut you if you take one step closer,” she hisses. Heaving a resigned sigh jiggles his ponderous belly. “You promised. Just for today.” he says. “And you promised…
dVerse — Prosery — Answered
where can we find light in this never-ending shade?–From Amanda Gorman, “The Hill We Climb” Answered Curled up in blankets, layered against cold and wet, I read Clarke, Heinlein, or Atwood by candlelight; books whose pages haven’t disintegrated yet in the cave’s humidity. “X’s” on its wall say it’s mid-January. Deep underground it’s a constant…
Tao Talk 