Once a year dies the sun at the church on the hill when the mist shroud’s just right and the birds become still. When the bell rings unbid lest we ever forget that we acted as one — once a year dies the sun. They were born in a drought; mother died giving birth. Preacher…
slimverse 052121 bad hair day
some days youhave the hairand some daysit has you
dVerse — MTB — Nature’s Waltz
Nature’s Waltz When the outside comes in on the breeze, When the stale air inside floats away, When the scent of the lilac makes me sneeze, When the song of the wind chimes say that we made it to Spring through the greys. When the reds of the robins return When the orange of the…
#FF — Red Reign
PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda Red Reign Rain clouds convened on the cursed setting like PCB-laced icing on a hemlock cake. To many NYC’s Lady Liberty was an icon of salvation; to the rest it was an itching reminder of hypocrisy. Downing and Delta loaded their backpacks with climbing gear, paintball guns, and red paint…
dVerse — Poetics — Ode to Charles Fletcher Lummis
Charles Fletcher Lummis 1897 Are orphans worthy? If so, how much? To what purpose? Who is asking, and who is answering depends on so and thus. Yet there he was an orphan, determined to learn what was needed to earn his keep in a world where motherless children are too often kicked to the curb…
Movies, Movies, Movies! Intermission and selection from the archives, “Highway 61” (1991)Yes, That One but Not That One
My apologies go out to my readers today. With the warmer weather and being vaccinated, it means I’m out and sometimes about doing more non-blogging activities. The plan is to either post reviews later, tomorrow, or skip this week and have more to review next week. Again, my apologies. Just so you don’t walk away…
dVerse — Quadrille Monday — Scuffed
Wound silky thread, row upon row, maker’s bark woven // yet fatefully scuffed; existential shorthand all understand. There remain no untroubled bits. If perchance you see none, know the pulp beneath. Mycellic intraveni creep up from roots; we’re nourished as we return to dust. Yesterday, older son and I took another walk out along The…
Tao-Talk 