dVerse Poetics — Grandmother Moon

I carry Spring in my heart as I gaze up at my Grandmother Moon.   There is too much to write about my grandmother.  It is like writing about the moon.  I created the collage to celebrate the Chinese Lunar New Year of the Rabbit and decided to use it for my American Sentence about…

weak links

fall afternoon gunshots shatter quiet bare trees stand heaven listens not surprised; still mystified human death fetish pop… pop… pop… pop… trigger finger tires city boy drives home top image:  “Betrayal,” by Mario Sanchez Nevado It’s happening with more frequency.  The next door neighbor sold a small piece of property on the other side of…

#TSM 210 — American Sentence

I’m frayed and twisted but still strong — and ready for the next adventure. This short and sweet poem is called an American Sentence, invented by Allen Ginsberg. Carrie is the host of The Sunday Muse.

The road to fitness.

Let the pulse pass; it will become a stone and drag you to the bottom. I started smoking cigarettes at age 17. I smoked through both of my pregnancies and while nursing my sons. Smoking was something I understood was a bad thing for my health and for the health of my children and those…

American Sentence — two cats series

These are my first attempts at writing American Sentences.  My favorite subjects are featured in a series of 3. Two cats curl on two separate perches; not friends, yet not enemies. One curls in leopard-skin bed; one curls on pink-printed fleece — both dreaming. One has long stripes with white cotton bits; one’s short-haired, white,…