dVerse — Poetics — Carnivale

Curled in her warm arms, rocking as James Darren* sings on the radio. At bedtime, she tells me stories of faeries and ogres while rubbing my aching legs. I’m dropped at another stranger’s tent. Ignored, uneasy sleep in an empty corner until her midnight voice returns, slurs, “Let’s go.” Dad will never know. Carnies’ front…

dVerse — Prosery — Morning Muse

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow out of this stony rubbish?— by T.S. Eliot, from The Waste Land   Morning Muse She lay in a heap at the bottom of the back steps. Cold from the October morning’s hard-packed dirt crept into the arm, her right, that crumpled askew under her large…

POPO 2021 Day 10

Best friends, matching hats. “Hey, beach boy, two more, please!”

TSM 181 — Revived

Their bodies turned traitor but their minds stay loyal. Each Saturday at city center park, their tactre-pledges under oak witnesses. It matters not whose king is vanquished, but the thrill of life through logic’s foreplay courses through veins. Greyed skulls, capped heads bent,rapt in concentration, they’realive once again           Carrie is…