Everything I do is stitched with its color. – W.S. Merwin, from “Separation” Epithets were part of my family’s lexicon. My paternal side used gentler terms; the maternal side hurled vicious ones with glee. How my family, who lived in shacks, toiled in non-unionized factories, and were blessed to have a rabbit for dinner; and…
Category: poetry
TSM 242 — Lady Blue
Painting by Richard Burlet “Woman in Blue” i.She does her best to turn away from her machine lifeThose who imagine her see patterns of blue in her pixels ii.indigo diva, a shy bird who merges with the rare blue birch iii.betrayer’s lips’ union agoddess’ dismay.chameleon raimentswivels away to blue. Three perspectives on this LOVELY image. …
last lines for 2022 poems
painting by Mary Sonya Conti nature’s teaching brings illumination of sun;bluff that satisfies the sequoia.each thing falls away like a leaf and tunes into each moment’s song.cold shadows fade; promised hearth warms us.elbow to elbow, we verse ourselves and flyand wave. another babe on your armas you inhale your garden,reciprocal determinersact of comfortingremains. her final…
dVerse — MTB — found poem(s) from 2022
i. The first time I saw you I heard boom Late Sunday night I’m sipping tea The first of summer, I stand before a California tree our appointed place, in our dappled green lane, ii. Is health dread chore as stone to bear, It’s quantity and quality’s Mountain Her living lingered, Her face a white…
TSM 229, Friday Writings 45, and dVerse Poetics — Hymns March
“See the Light” by Giulio Bernardi How neatly click blocks as they form the walls of box container; clay, baked dust pads prison, hope long flown, left to airless midnights. The keeper’s metals clank thrice bringing tasteless gruel; little more than corpse fuel and sensory morsels. Heat of stones tell seasons. At times I’m graced…
Tanka Tuesday 302 — Dawn’s Blankets
Terri Webster Shrandt Dawn’s pink and blue crystal blankets Faux-warm, smiling crystal blankets Quiet world stirs, begins anew Our home hearth burns Wind lost, aimless chimney smoke curls Disperses in lightening sky Dawn’s pink and blue crystal blankets Our home hearth burns Yesterday’s blizzard swept away Awake, awed with morning’s pastel, Sip hot coffee and…
dVerse — Q44 167 — Artiste
She hurls paint at life, bold, gloppy oranges and reds, hoping it dries before diluting rains wash it down the drain. She hurls paint at death splatters of purple and brown, royalty and decay. The way of things won’t have it any other way. top image: “The Third Hand” by Hans Hofmann. De Jackson (aka…
Tao-Talk 