The dragon is a fractal. The dragon is a fractal? That which has been regarded at an end has revealed its infinity. It’s not a dot-eyed twin small fry wiggling in waterways that one day bursts into the sky. It’s dragons all the way down and flies high beyond high. What associated lexicography is to…
Category: dverse
dVerse — Prosery — Great Aunt Zi
she’d had it sliced away leaving a scar –Michael Donaghy, from his poem, Liverpool Lili remembers the family story, where her Grandmother Char’s grandmother planted the ginkgo tree the day Char was born. The sapling, a scrawny thing that grew with a misshapen trunk, was like her, misshapen. Char remembers how her aunts surveyed the…
dVerse — MTB/Form — Celebrating the Eleventh Anniversary of dVerse
our appointed place, in our dappled green lane, where violet-fringed cobblestones, grounding, end; with ready welcomes to toast, wordsmith, and play as we grok with cosmical themes, forms, and friends from sand to spires, from woe to joys explicate where muses waft, fragrant zephyrs on the wind cozied where ideas flow, invigorate; heaven’s ears perk…
dVerse — Quadrille 155 — Heaven’s Newest Angel
Petrichor cloud balloons bob as the band tunes up; it’s time to celebrate heaven’s newest angel. She’s been orienting for a few weeks and just passed the fit-for-duty quiz. She’s test-flying her wings; landing is expected in five. God always gets the first dance. My mom passed away on June 21. This is what…
dVerse — Monday Haibun — Solstice
Mom will not see another solstice in this life. Day is night and night is day as night approaches. They say the morphine is to help with breathing and for the pain; but mom was breathing ok before and she had no pain other than that of the children she bore and the grandchildren she…
dVerse — Poetics — The Death of Dolores Haze
That summer when sweet dew was on the rose she danced and played along the merry lane while mother hummed a tune and hung the clothes. Yet ill winds soon would spin the weather vane. A stranger from Bigtown, in fancy clothes, arrived and said he’d traveled on the train. Slack-jawed and bug-eyed, looked just…
dVerse — Monday Quadrille 154 — however it’s spelled
Does exuberant green panorama speak Spring or Summer? Mid-June paper flutters in ninety-degree heat. Rhubarb roars. Dandelions smoke cigarettes, bees hmmm carnal at rainbows. Lilacs’ brown sugar memory; mitigated with gingered peonies. Life cycles’ motors rumble. Six letters may spell what they wish. This poem is also a nod to Sanaa’s included quote (thanks Sanaa!)…
Tao Talk 