Category: poetry

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…

Read More

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…

Read More

dVerse — MTB — The Shape of Dust

I speak to maps. And sometimes they something back to me. This is not as strange as it sounds, nor is it an unheard of thing. Before maps, the world was limitless. It was maps that gave it shape and made it seem like territory, like something that could be possessed, not just laid waste…

Read More