Why is a raven like a writing desk? A glazed-circled pill, washed down with last elixir from the magic bean pot, soon called to me, “Come out and play, little Alice!” No longer small, I managed to crawl through the shrinking doorway to robin’s egg blue, glittered with sunbeams. “WHERE ARE YOU?” I boomed with…
Category: dverse
dVerse Poetics Tuesday — Neverending Love
image link Neverending LoveHer gustatory love affaircountry song of complicated,twangy and dysfunctionated,dawns as baby who’s tasty-snared;carbohydrates, choc’late pudding,nothing taboo in the putting.Limitless, showed to her they cared.Infants learn in simple language,eating love while adding baggage.Pudged as she is, and unprepared,missed not by now distracted parents,others’ sweets like ass with carrots.Grown to teens, naive, unawaredynamics of…
dVerse Q244 Silence
cadaver tomb SilenceSilence …. … … … …… … … … … … … …… … … …… … … …… … … … … … … …… … … …… … … ….. .. .. .. is death. Lillian is today’s host for dVerse’ Quadrille Monday. Lillian would like us to write a 44-word…
dVerse MTB/Forms — Metamorphosist
Kim M. Russell, one of the hosts of dVerse Poets Pub Metamorphosist Kindly she is foremost in her unassuming style. She’s most pleasantly attuned to Nature’s multi-sensory music on daily walks and with recollections that never stray very far. Her muses are used to dance and play among her –and our– imagination(s.) She who loves…
dVerse Tuesday Poetics — St. Patrick’s Day in Michigan 2026
Looking for pics, I came across this one that tickles me pink. Image link St. Patrick’s Day in Michigan 2026White waves whoosh along overcast scenemaking it a bit tricky trying to imagine greenswath of shamrock, dandelions, and crocus.I try to bound up and click heels in my head;only weary, opting to fetal curl up in…
dVerse Prosery Monday — Factory Farmed
image link It all belies / Our existence; we wait, and are still denied.–From “Winter-Lull” by D.H. Lawrence Factory Farmed I wake. Even with blindfold, it is bright. Around us, sound of metal clinking, squeak of rolling wheel, muffled voice over intercom echoes as if we’re in a large space. Climate-controlled air whooshes. Stench of…
dVerse — Poetics Tuesday — The Worm Turns
The Turning Of The Worm,Painting by Christian Michael The Worm Turns Plot points on a small map, where I travel no furtherthan scattershot; wet in settler’s muck where I wiggle, human worm, blind, underground, catalyzing compost. Churning waste to sleepy dreamer’s gold, I rise, emerge,shadow from shadows, with an urge to breathe; sniff frightened, decaying…
Tao-Talk 