Kurt Cobain art She eyes me like a Pisces when I am weak — Kurt Cobain, from “Heart-Shaped Box“ With practiced, sterile, gloved hands she tosses sample on tray. Her flat black eyes alight as she studies an oddity — that is me. Incongruous specimen, distinct from any like, unearthly beast snagged in satellite net,…
Category: dverse
dVerse — Q195 — Born in Touch
Born In Touch All that is,atoms’ motion,born in touch,nudging,reachingconnection: eyes meeting,ears listening,tongues tasting,fingers brushing,words articulating,emptiness speaking,souls intertwining in realms inside/outside time, space, places. Old stones testifythrough seasons:each of 10k thingsrecycled incarnationsin perpetuity. top image link De aka Whimsygizmo is today’s host for dVerse’ Quadrille Monday. De wants us to write a 44-word poem using the…
dVerse — Prosery and OLN 356 — The Bamboo Grove
The Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove, by Chen Hongshou (1598-1652). Handscroll, ink and color on silk. The Bamboo Grove bright dark midsummer dusk warm nestled doves coo peace red-tailed hawk spreads her wings for home to rest grove with green-walled bamboo calls its thirsty dreamers careful steppers in patterned robes to grace dry leaf…
dVerse — Prosery — From Abraham’s Journal
Edward “Eddy” Baker Lincoln …city lilacs release their sweet, wild perfume then bow down, heavy with rain. –by Helen Dunmore, from ‘City Lilacs’, From Abraham’s Journal February,1850 Dreaming three-year-old Eddy’s cough wakes me. My feet can never find their slippers. Padding quickly to his room I notice again it is drafty, no matter how high…
dVerse — MTB — Banking on Seeds
Dewey Decimal Card Catalogue Cabinet Banking On Seeds A-rest on shore of seed bank boxes, We embark upon novel re-purposing. Tiny, local, handwritten manila packets. From springy plants to bountiful falls, Circle closes in reciprocal deposits. Low-key pamphlet pinned on cork, Dinging bell for farmer’s PowerPoint Of step-by-step in saving seeds. Hippy bright in whys…
dVerse — Poetics — day rests
Faithful servants, they ask so little. When day rests, soft tinkles’ taps above ripples in still’s dying light. The top photo was taken in July, 2009, after we’d finished sailing and had our small Siren 17 up on the trailer. The marina and the surrounding area looks quite a bit different today. I miss those…
d’Verse – Quadrille Monday 194 — Red Dragon
Red Dragon Smoke smell fastened, pulled from valley, I climb the hill to barren ash. Trauma woods fire-blackened, uprights flattened. Bracken-scaled, flexing talons, vengeful dragon. Imagining what passion called, where sense crawled, slack- jawed madness, scorched earth fashion, happened. Knight pageant, cannon-wagonned batten down for fight. With this, my method was to go to rhymezone,…
