every day unfurls as it must–from Oolong, by Adrienne Su Karma’s Little Helper She sweats on the front porch swing, listening to wind swish treetops, catching whiffs of lavender. It is summer’s zenith, when green screams its loudest. Sunlight roars yellow. The palette’s remainder supports in dulcet murmurs. Reverie carries her to a summer when…
Category: prosery
dVerse — Prosery — Answered Prayers
I pray to God that she may lieForever with unopened eye— from Edgar Allan Poe’s, “The Sleeper” Millicent and I are born eighteen months apart; she in the heat of August, and I in the chill of January. Our temperaments follow our seasons. She, vivacious, fire in her blood; and I, pale, introverted, with a…
dVerse — Prosery — Tomorrow’s Sacred Space
Something told the wild geese It was time to fly. — by Rachel Lyman Field, from Something told the wild geese Tomorrow’s Sacred Space For a thousand generations we’ve welcomed their return to the spring-fed lake when their wintering grounds told them to fly home. Their petroglyphs skein the cave walls. Migratory residents, they’re also…
dVerse — Prosery Monday — Time Trapped
follow image link to fascinating, true story of man trapped by time What does it matter That the stars we see are already dead. By Amy Woolard, from her poem, “Laura Palmer Graduates” Time Trapped I admit Subject 2789 from Planet 23764’s soft form and sincere questions touch and amuse me. The warm, dark pools…
dVerse — Prosery — Jumped
all of the names swallowed up by the cold — from Tomas Tranströmer’s poem, “After Someone’s death” She is Freud’s example of what happens when the first step is jumped. From daddy and mummy, then uncles and cousins, to neighbors and strangers, to lovers and spouses, her unprotected vulnerability is an opportunity to be exploited…
dVerse — Prosery — From Abraham’s Journal
Edward “Eddy” Baker Lincoln …city lilacs release their sweet, wild perfume then bow down, heavy with rain. –by Helen Dunmore, from ‘City Lilacs’, From Abraham’s Journal February,1850 Dreaming three-year-old Eddy’s cough wakes me. My feet can never find their slippers. Padding quickly to his room I notice again it is drafty, no matter how high…
dVerse — Prosery — Burning Questions
I was where I am When the snow began —from “The Dead of Winter” by Samuel Menashe December is when planning is needed to find daylight for important conversations. There is no grave to visit. The tall chimney never sleeps. I was where I am when the snow began, standing outside of the crematorium. No…
Tao Talk 