Senryū when the cords of cold outdoors ensnare the outcasts winter feasts on flesh d'Verse poetics: The blizzard of the self At d'Verse, Sanaa encourages us to become the embodiment of winter. What do you feel during this season? Describe a typical January day. Feel free to go dark and philosophical... Senryū? Senryū is a… Continue reading Cords of cold, or: Winter feasts
A duodora I'm well aware of life's fragility; it would take only the tiniest nudge of fate to push one out onto the street to seek shelter from the elements under a worn awning. I'm well aware of the privilege that comes with looking out a morning window; sipping a freshly brewed coffee; having a… Continue reading Well, or: Aware
d’Verse prosery "Hey, brother." Fat Greg lifted the flap of Earl's camping tent and prodded him unceremoniously. "Wake up." Instantly, Earl was awake. Sleeping rough for more than twelve years had taught him to always keep one eye open, and he had long since gotten used to Greg's behavior. Besides, having a friend was a… Continue reading Night walks scattering poems
Poetry Partners #131 'The Fallen', a poem by Brandon Ellrich The sun grows weary of providing warmth, And birds must bend to his whims. Leaves have betrayed their host, And fallen from their homes. The jealous wind, no longer seen, In the branches of the trees, Now sweeps through the discarded canopy, To show that… Continue reading Fallen, or: Swept away
An American sentence: An old man lies on a bench, hand stretched out, cupping a pile of loose change. What's an 'American Sentence'? Allen Ginsberg, inventor of the American Sentence, felt that the haiku didn’t work as well in English. Ginsberg decided to remove the line structure of the haiku, maintaining the requirement of 17… Continue reading Loose change, or: Nothing changes
Poetry Partners #88 'Green Park Benches', a poem by J. P. of 'The Poetry Of J.P.' Old bearded men drifting in the alleys of night have died with the sunset and as I have overlooked their bodies beneath green park benches and bridges they too have overlooked my feet passing quietly by as the waitress… Continue reading Invisible, or: People
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