of a son
Perhaps it was the I remember the bus stop by the brown field Empty no man's land between the houses with a couple of small How old was I in second or third grade? Nine years old I suppose Maybe eight houses down from ours maybe less It's all so hazy Those two small trees… Continue reading Little game, or: Thrill me
EPIGRAPH: When you start to live outside yourself, it’s all dangerous.-Ernest Hemingway (1899 – 1961) write safe words never utter crowd out white space press a dull nib dipped in life ink pour more than enough to cover horizonless pages of sheerest all color streaming into one blinding plane as searing brave light tears through… Continue reading Dangerous, or: Horizonless
A free verse quadrille lacking motivation to even capitalize my letters; nah it’s stylistic –capitalized one only to change it –cuz that’s creative right? almost missed it, actually cuz my puter screen is smudged up, and I'm lacking the motivation to spray it and wipe it down. Tired A d'Verse prompt The above free verse… Continue reading almost, or: Tired
Memories free in verse I remember entire apples consumed, only stems remained to be thrown away I remember wet crunching sounds even as I was still cutting mine into slices I spread thick peanut butter, too much of, it on apples, as he did, but his used to be spread upon the skin; then all… Continue reading Stars, or: Cyanide
A d'Verse quadrille wanting to understand every world every word intriguing who is he she she she he she say more tell more you were kidnapped by your father how curious I'm so fascinated no you got pregnant as a teenager wow how did your parents what The prompt: A curiosity of poems The above… Continue reading Worlds, or: Stories
A d'Verse quadrille I’m wound up and wounded Not my body yet, just my heart We’re sitting potential collateral Damage // seems Verse is free But can’t free me From her world, which I’m afraid to leave For, simply, I Want to protect her innocence and heart The prompt: What’s in a word? The above… Continue reading Parenthood, or: Fear
A 'Magnetic' free verse quadrille Wanna try? Click here. gentle rain on ancient fertile seed river of sweet poetry wets earth water murmurs with secret song beneath warm spring sun watches from above life's thick fresh roots growing deeply sacred tendrils climbing up through the grass winter's beautiful cold frost spirit will wither Notes For… Continue reading River of sweet poetry, or: Sacred tendrils climbing
