My empty gut in echoed hunger rests in burgers dripping with grease; recall the pangs of when much younger. The crumbs always lead me back home with dry white toast and margarine, big orange blocks of surplus cheese, macaroni, and mushy green beans. The crumbs always lead me back home. German Chocolate cake from a…
Category: dverse
dVerse — Quadrille Monday #143 — Breathe
Rising, skeleton grey against white winter weak bulb, appetites spring. Memory’s green sprouting raiment soon-kept promise – songs on birdwing. To blue drowns, tickles toes and sands as tired bellies flop jumbo towels. Then orange, now brown clowns skip; seasonal powders circled; muse’ fragrant palettes. top image: “Four Seasons,” by Yvonne You De Jackson (aka…
Winter Snow Haibun
We’re in the middle of a winter weather advisory that is supposed to end tomorrow morning. The video was taken yesterday. Temp in the 20’s F, wind blowing the snow horizontally, but not much accumulation. When I woke up and looked out this morning, I was both surprised and relieved to see how much snow…
dVerse — Haibun Monday — Celebrate 2021
“Snow Effect, The Street in Argentuil,” (1875) by Claude Monet Since becoming single again in 2017, retiring from my fast-paced government job in 2018, and the onslaught of the pandemic starting in 2019, the holidays and their hoopla have been shifting into a steadily lowering gear. Where before there were multiple family and social gatherings,…
dVerse — MTB — Kwansaba Praise Poem
left to right: grandma at age 72; grandma holding my younger son; grandma holding me as a baby; grandma and grandpa one Christmas. To Grandma Her name means little free man. A little woman, she was not free, in tether to home, ills, and pills; yet clan flocked to her oasis for coffee, cards, laughs;…
dVerse — Poetics — One hundred and six
Kenopsia: the atmosphere of a place that is usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet. One hundred and six. Campsites, that is;with a sugar hump of dunes betweenthem and a freshwater sea.March first begins claiming dibsas fingers square-dance to ticking timersfaster than ticket nabbing to see Pearl Jam.The first weekend in June…
dVerse – Quadrille Monday #142 – Falling
Falling Tinsel flutters among sun baublesslicing wounds upon the dead, yetlost in his head he wanders, blind. Son’s bittersweet meanderingslikewise cling to bright marblesin half-sunk goo of clotted blood. Trapped in the present’s purgatorya son leaves; a man dies alone. I watched the 2020 film, “Falling,” which is written, directed, produced and starring Viggo…
Tao-Talk 