Every year on inland lakes and ponds in Michigan, hardy souls walk out onto the ice, auger holes into it, and drop fishing lines, hoping to catch enough pan fish to feed their families dinner. Just as many go out onto the ice for fresh air and the comraderie of kindred spirits. In years gone…
Category: poetry
dVerse — OLN 309 — winter haiku
cold brick notice brings a smile to rosy cheeks boots crunch snow to lake summer spirits empty winter pavilion smell of wood smoke bare trees stand, still winter benches brushed with snow along frozen lake straight steps soon turn away from the cloudy sun cold hands, warm heater Out and about on errands today, I…
dVerse — Poetics — Snow Crunches on the Sidewalk
Major Season (Sekki): Deep Winter Deep Winter is where there is no sign of the beauty of autumn or spring. The memory of autumn has faded and the hope of spring feels too far away. Micro-Season (Kō): Snow Crunches on the Sidewalk This is the time of year when temperatures dip so low that the…
Word Garden Word List #11 (“A Ted Hughes Bestiary”)
Hatched from zodiac of needles and razors, talons and beaks of solely murderous pretense, feathered non-sophists soar thunder vapors; lofty cheesecake stars in post-holiday snaps but if inquisition were curious to know, not only chain-toppers but riflers of rubbish, and theft; opportune scavengers, symbols, screaming their credo in glittered looting arrogance: greed is good. image…
TSM 196 — Longfellow Kindku
Photography by Josephine Tell me, oh sweet creation, secrets, odds and ends, enjoyment and adventure. Your heart in its drums, field adance with daffodils, furry joy sublime, sailing kitten dreams — divine. Today’s offering is in the kindku form. Carrie is today’s host of The Sunday Muse.
dVerse — Form for All — A trip to the library
I raise my mask and leave the car,the slot not far.I drop them in;one circuit ends. I spy upon the reserve rackmy labeled stack.I scan them in;circuit begins. Outside mask drops; I breathe in frost,first bag car-tossed;next in I heaveinto; then leave. This “minute” has been repeated for many circuits since retirement in 2018….
dVerse — Poetics — Mariana
There is a human wildness held beneath the skin. – by Jim Harrison, from Songs of Unreason When Sol burns white sea turns deep green; where sand warms, my bones do not shiver. A pale palm across lids shadow transports, bass deep and high to a realm of relic seasoned whiff; where incorporate clouds…
Tao-Talk 