lose the stones in your pockets lose the guilt that you choose lose the grit in your sprockets lose the rotgut in your booze lose the shadow of your fear lose the whine in your bellow lose the cotton in your ears lose the judgment on your fellows lose the hunger of your want lose…
Category: poetry
Cover Reveal for ‘Wounds I Healed’ — Experiments in Fiction
Calling all poets! Calling all poets! Please take a look at the beautiful artwork on the cover of a book currently in the making. Submissions are still being taken for it. Today, I am excited to reveal the cover of the forthcoming anthology from Gabriela Marie Milton and EIF, Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of…
dVerse — Quadrille 149 — cloudfish speaks
It matters not the season, awake or asleep, please know me and understand, from grain of sand shifting with water, to morning’s crystals on a blade of grass, to your hands along warm scented skin, my swimming infinity; tender breadcrumbs offered as holy gifts. [44 words] I wanted to use one of my collages to…
TSM 205 — Haunted Diner
“The Whitehouse Diner” Photo by Aaron Segreaves Haunted Diner I can still hear them, their laughter, the plates and glasses clinking. I can still hear them, when youth’s engine blushed our cheeks. Spied then I, two entwined through the glass, heart sinking. Flames grew tall; I torched them all without thinking. I can still hear…
No A2Z for me this year.
the beastie in thesodden wood does coil, raise itsburlish back in wait I had the best intentions of participating this year, but the Women Music March has taken the oomph out of it for me. I still plan on taking a look at the list and following the ones that sound interesting but will…
dVerse — OLN 313 and earthweal 112 — A Walk in the Woods tanka series
just a few steps in wreathe of trailing arbutus glistens in the rain soon my coat is heavy also soggy humus path my home ◊◊◊ such a tiny thing this small pink berry, yet it becomes a world here litter of wet forest floor rotting testament to life ◊◊◊ imagination wants me to believe that…
dVerse — Poetics — just the baubles, please!
You all know the wild grief that besets us when we remember times of happiness. – Ernst Junger, On the Marble Cliffs, John Lehmann, 1947 If, if only we could choose them, severed threads cauterized, polished and shining like coins rolling end over end in sunlight, when it’s always what we call it — where…
Tao-Talk 