At first it seemed to be a dream; a blinding eye coiffed in black. My first thought: they’re back. Stalked peer of metallic goon is more than holo in my sleep as a scream begins to creep up the back of my paralyzed throat. This is my second offering for Bjorn’s prompt word for dVerse…
Category: quadrille
Dverse – Quadrille 147 – These Eyes
To take a photograph is to align the head, the eye and the heart. It’s a way of life. ~ Henri Cartier-Bresson In twos, borne sclera grapes, socket twins, camera duets note lens shifts. Panoptic seas, eagles to snails, eyes of newborn until final closing. In color surprises to weepy accepts discern silhouettes; sweet Arbus…
dVerse – Monday Quadrille 146 — Red Church
It’s Callys today. Mindy brings Magners and water. Crunching veggie sticks with ranch we chat, from hiccup laughs to gasps. Soon arrives tomato soup with saltines and Vichyssoise. Monthly church of call and response; hushed whys turn wise in retrospect. Dessert: fresh strawberry pie. [44 words] Top image: “Red Church in Winter Scape,” by Yuri…
dVerse — Quadrille 145 — Nibbling
Late Sunday night I’m sipping tea and watching the end of, “Ray Donovan: The Movie.” And crying. Chauncey, the puppy, should be running in dreams after hounding Mlady and Dotty all day; instead, he’s nibbling my toes. What a silly, synchronous act of comforting. top image link Note: Chauncey passed away in 2016, but he…
dVerse — Quadrille 144 — Snow Birds
Matters not hue nor contour, when winter’s crystal flies and frosts the trees birds’ feathers shiver large to puff into warm coat fluff. Arranged in tacit, ordered array, clawed stoics cling to chill branches until called to trapeze feeders atwist in arctic breeze. Merril is today’s host for dVerse’ Quadrille Monday. Merril says: Use shiver–or…
dVerse — Quadrille Monday #143 — Breathe
Rising, skeleton grey against white winter weak bulb, appetites spring. Memory’s green sprouting raiment soon-kept promise – songs on birdwing. To blue drowns, tickles toes and sands as tired bellies flop jumbo towels. Then orange, now brown clowns skip; seasonal powders circled; muse’ fragrant palettes. top image: “Four Seasons,” by Yvonne You De Jackson (aka…
dVerse – Quadrille Monday #142 – Falling
Falling Tinsel flutters among sun baublesslicing wounds upon the dead, yetlost in his head he wanders, blind. Son’s bittersweet meanderingslikewise cling to bright marblesin half-sunk goo of clotted blood. Trapped in the present’s purgatorya son leaves; a man dies alone. I watched the 2020 film, “Falling,” which is written, directed, produced and starring Viggo…
Tao-Talk 