In his eyes he’s a clown,the one who makes them laugh,makes them forget their flaws,their worries, at least for awhile.He is the scapegoat who makeseveryone feel good about themselves. In their eyes, he’s a cheap thrillA buffoon in make-up and big shoeswho’s lucky they are so generouswith their laughter.Anyone can do his job.He’s quickly forgotten…
Category: poetry
dVerse — MTB/Form — Come the Dawn
Ev’ry night ascend appointed pathRendezvous until the dark is goneTuck away immortal flights with youCome the sober rose blush of the dawn Doesn’t matter that it isn’t realEven if it’s just in dreams it’s trueCome the sober rose blush of the dawnTuck away immortal flights with you Promise hugged with hope one day unfurledWhen the…
dVerse — Poetics — Rental
Vinyl siding that covers ant-chewed planks,chipped and broken from bottles and baseballs. Concrete steps, cracked from earth-settling, chip-ped when the second-hand fridge got delivered. All windows glass dusty panes, except one’s plastic;the flaked painted molding shows rot, disintegration. The door is hollow core, with many ghosts of locks,kick holes towards the floor of the bare…
dVerse — Poetics — Solar Sailer
The muse alighted on my shoulder and asked, “Do you really want a home built on stone?” I thought only a moment. “Not anymore.” “Surely not one built on sand or in the trees?” “God forbid, and that goes for one on wheels.” She asked, “Where do you feel most at home?” (Knowing full-well where.)…
dVerse — quadrille 133 — Prayer to the Unworthy
Our time to stand and act is now as welcome is receding… En masse, to be receptive to reformation’s possibility. Gaia gave us her perfect garden and we’ve turned it into a dump. Please! Beg her to turn our hearts now to manifested love. I am today’s host of dVerse’ Quadrille Monday. I say: Your…
TSM 172 — each night she tries
by day she’s drenchedgloom’s sticky thingsforever youngforever trapped each night she triesto recapturethe special dreamwhen she felt free woolly cushionedeach night she triesshe drifts to sleepto see bright wings when moon rise and when daylight fleeseach night she triesto hear the song dim dusty trailsthat wind alongcold stone pathwayseach night she tries Carrie is…
Favorite Book Passages — from “In Search of our Mothers’ Gardens: Womanist Prose,” by Alice Walker
One thing I try to have in my life is an awareness of and openness to mystery, which, to me, is deeper than any politics, race, or geographical location. In the poems I read, a sense of mystery, a deepening of it, is what I look for – because that is what I respond to….
Tao-Talk 