The worse it seemed to get…

An American paragraph* (an experimental form) He wished that not everything had to be so challenging all the time. Clearly, it didn't matter whether he combed his beard thrice; he knew that. Plus, why wake up each morning at seven twenty-seven on the dot? Why should he leave the crust on only one side of… Continue reading The worse it seemed to get…

Lost, or: Found

A Byr a Thoddaid Consumed she his whole imagination... temptation, deep within. He'd turn, but would find no one there... Where'd she gone to, his lady fair? Never once did he doubt her existence ~ Sultry dances; firm legs... Friends and family were concerned ~ He came all company to spurn. He was soon beyond… Continue reading Lost, or: Found

Transfer, or: Orientation

A 'Found Poem' Based on Peter Schneider's poem 'Lost in Plain Sight' I wake up, waiting, wanting to speak my mind, I think. Why do I have this empty cup clenched in my right hand? To fill in with... name, date? I greet my neighbor (isn't her name Susan?) with trivia, punch line. She smiles… Continue reading Transfer, or: Orientation

Red rum, or: Ink wells

A kyrielle Every body drained of its blood, He came to be known as the Leech. While screams filled his mind like a flood, He quilled stirring ballads for each. For months, he'd observe them closely, Even learned their manners of speech. They were local heroes, mostly; He quilled stirring ballads for each. He would… Continue reading Red rum, or: Ink wells