Memories like floating on puffsin cortico-limbic fashion;cloud dandelions, blown in huff,soar and dive to feel-triggered whimsto tumble, jumbled in the scuff.Exhausted, yet they rise againto disperse, scattered to the rough.Mere specks with their sails unfastened,return to cosmic hieroglyphs. magic 9 form Grace is today’s host of dVerse’ Meeting the Bar. Grace would like us to…
Category: dverse
dVerse — Poetics — Waitless
WaitlessHeart in necrotic sorrow,I prepare myself to… wait.Your tardiness attests refusal.Anxious, I must ask whycan’t you glean my despair? A filthy blindness’ habit of time.Robe-cocooned, poised for tea timewith brew that sleeps sorrow,mutes screamed despair.In impatience I waitfor your shadowed knock. Whyentrench refusal?Shall mission meet cruel refusalwhen control of early end is time’sonly control we…
dVerse — Q201 — Noneday
Noneday Do you know sacred place in sevensie’s space? A time of no-time? When calendars flee? Breath, unfettered, appreciates all, exists between, within Noneday, all dwells without names, only senses attuned, communed. In wordless apprehension, music of wind travels skin sings stories scent of cinnamon. Note: The word Noneday came to me today when I…
24 SSPC 33 (1st week) The Beginning of Summer, (May 5 – 19) Rikka and dVerse OLN 361 — transition, joy, and mystery
transition father’s wishing well restscrumbling in the yardhome to small brown ants and large haunting regretspushed over, rolled asidereplaced by lighthouse joy sleeping koi awakenin warming waterconfetti swirls, hungry anticipationfor gifts from tiny handsdelighted to give mystery turtles and frogs clump onlogs and algae bedsafter long sleeps; how they rest in quietudeamidst hue-song riot is…
dVerse — Poetics — Bright Elusive
Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio Bright Elusive A lifeline, a toy, a reasonto come,drawn from the ether,into being. Clean-slated but not really;formed by twocracked vessels with smokeof 10,000 things trailing. All things are bornwith a soul,but soul’s are finickyand chug off if doused with pesticide. For what did Pinocchio yearn but for his soul?Clambered down fromhis…
dVerse — Prosery — Tomorrow’s Sacred Space
Something told the wild geese It was time to fly. — by Rachel Lyman Field, from Something told the wild geese Tomorrow’s Sacred Space For a thousand generations we’ve welcomed their return to the spring-fed lake when their wintering grounds told them to fly home. Their petroglyphs skein the cave walls. Migratory residents, they’re also…
dVerse — MTB — ready (bop poem)
ready five by eight once enough twenty cent journals held ballpoint ink, keyboards, glue, mag clippings, thoughtbytes media to remember, process, now shrink to insufficiency I found a box and put a room inside to obsess posters, billboards iron skyward, field-installed monuments, to hail impossible survival beyond life’s hell-all relentless, warping onslaught by exploiters and…
Tao Talk 