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: poetry
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…
TSM 193 — Annointed
“James Dean playing the bongos, NYC, 1955. Photographed by Dennis Stock ” Celluloid flutters far away grooves deepen on this sunny day No ivory tickles needed When steady muse heartbeat heeded Smoke curls, blue, lazy, upward rise Windless rapture behind closed eyes Bongo trio passes the joint Lubricated, our smiles annoint Carrie is today’s host…
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…
Shay’s Word Garden — Word List 7 — (Langston Hughes) Dawn Jazz
Dawn Jazz Landlord of Clocks tick-tocks through my dreams, raining salt on an untamed parade of roses that claw and scrabble towards respite moon. Oh, Lord! I grow weary of the climb; my midnight skin bleeds. Oh, their thorns! yet their faces carry me on, glowing red each dawn. This poem is dedicated both to…
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,…
#TSM 192 — Sojourners
In before times all was a dreaming sleep. Awake, the days came; the forming colors flew from atomic cosmoplasmic brew; first, slithering like a great blue snake, came river, calling down –then laying itself on– brown dust. Oh seeds dance! Babies, lush, green, spring up trying to return to heavenly slumber; then fall — to…
Tao-Talk 