summer rain fallsI remember how you lovedwarm days on the lake l.-r. me, my dad, and my brother Daddy’s hands were large, with dark hair and pleasant toneThey were proportionate to his thin frame and long bonesHands I used to stand and watch, transfixed, as he shaved My father’s eyes rarely had courage to meet…
Category: dverse
dVerse — MTB — The Crow’s Should Examined
The Crow’s Should Examined Here again, I laboriously climbyew’s dry branches in dead forestto crow prophesy:Take warning, we should forgive each other.You disparage my oily black feathers,considering them unsightly, unclean.Consider this too, though polar, may youglean from me, as mouthpiece, morselsthat may nourish all souls?Instead we are opposite, westand, entrenched in our untenable positions, blinded,…
dVerse — Q203 — Amanita Dream
Amanita Dream Figment is as figment does.So what does a figment do?It’s nil to you as first it dreamsto fit inside haiku. Then it seemsits vapor grows until it fills a room.So pungent as you breathe it inthis mind-bending mushroom. top image: “Amanita Mushrooms,” by Christine Marshall Lillian is today’s host for dVerse’ Quadrille Monday….
dVerse — OLN 363 — “I see dead people.”
I see dead people. on the screenthen in my dreamsbabies sprawled,unable to crawlbeyond nursingparents cursingchildren’s infanticideendpoint stratifiedsoon en-gravedprayers unsaved there can be no victory in thisspite; parents’ grieving last kissesvengeful extinguishing innocentstoo many eyes crying in heaventoo many hollow sockets put to rest “I see dead people.” — from The Sixth Sense (1999) top image…
dVerse Poetics — ekphrastic to art of Catrin Welz-Stein — blind
blind blind to herself delectable vision to others eyes sting her flesh her tender skin blotched with their leers she yearns to vanish her graceful demure discounted by the lechers discarded to strip toss her like dice in dirty games, to gamble her despised treasure away she stumbles drawn by call of falling water where…
dVerse — Prosery — Answered Prayers
I pray to God that she may lieForever with unopened eye— from Edgar Allan Poe’s, “The Sleeper” Millicent and I are born eighteen months apart; she in the heat of August, and I in the chill of January. Our temperaments follow our seasons. She, vivacious, fire in her blood; and I, pale, introverted, with a…
dVerse — MTB — HMOs and Castaways
Roy Lichtenstein Onomatopoeia Collage HMOs and CastawaysBrrrrrrring!Old school receptionistbuffs her nails, oblivious.Tinnitis’ eardrumfibrillations chatter my teeth.Answer it already!Its screech is as bad as piteous yipsof the neighbor dogwhose keepers’eyeballs swivel their screensinstead of thwapping a rubber ball for not-so-cutegrown fido to chase.Fido’s yanking on his chain,collar-frictioned neck rubbed raw.SHUTTHEFUKKUP! they screamand he yips to their attention,…
