. . . and the iridescent image swimsthrough a mirror that flows.”Stanley Kunitz (The Atlantic, 1970)from “King of the River” Until We Meet Again, Dear Friend Her cries are barely audible. She is tired. It’s been days since she’s been able to drink. She sits and looks at the water, so thirsty. She looks away, looking…
Category: prosery
dVerse Prosery Monday 86 — Third Time Karma (For Virginia) — CONTENT WARNING — please don’t read if you’re squeamish
I am the creature who smells your darkest thoughtsby Arthur Sze, from, Jaguar Song Third Time Karma (For Virginia) I put dabs of blood-velvet lipstick on like a whore, then matte it daintily like a lady, before taking last look in the mirror. I am the creature who smells your darkest thoughts. Smiling at our…
dVerse Prosery Monday — In the Valley
The hills so dry,so dense the underbrush,that where I pushed my way the giant hush was changedto soft explosion.–Yvor Winters, from the poem, “On a View of Pasadena from the Hills.” In the Valley When would I learn to keep my mouth shut, especially when trapped by persons, places, and/or things? For instance, in a…
dVerse Prosery Monday — Heard
Publication – is the Auction Of the Mind — Emily Dickinson, from Publication – is the Auction (788) Heard The first things she remembers are screams. Her own. And too much red. Twelve years later… Lilac wafts through window of the third-floor dormitory, waking Dahlia. It’s laundry day. Still an hour before dawn. She pads…
dVerse Prosery Monday — Factory Farmed
image link It all belies / Our existence; we wait, and are still denied.–From “Winter-Lull” by D.H. Lawrence Factory Farmed I wake. Even with blindfold, it is bright. Around us, sound of metal clinking, squeak of rolling wheel, muffled voice over intercom echoes as if we’re in a large space. Climate-controlled air whooshes. Stench of…
dVerse Prosery Monday — Return
“A Crowned Merman” by Arthur Rackham (1867-1939) Lips forget what they have kissed.–Toni Morrison, from, “Eve Remembering“ Return For a month, each night Mara dreams of him there, her Robert, whom she believed was invincible, swaying in yellow-green sea amongst sargasso, eyes wide. Each morning, she lights incense and kneels at the shrine she built…
dVerse Prosery Monday — Final kiss
Bury me with the lies I told.–Alejandro Escovedo, from “Bury Me“ Final Kiss We grew up as neighbors. Your folks and ours were best friends. Moms canning peaches together every summer. Dads on the same bowling league. Remember when we all got Stingrays with banana seats? I remember it started in 9th grade, when we…
Tao-Talk 