The carers recommend walks and so she watches the passing of concrete beneath feet and stick. Her brown cardigan cranked to arching and her free hand behind her hip trying to fend off pain’s whorls. On the path a tumbled camellia bends its colour to every foot... she remembers dancing with Charlie Written for Twiglet … Continue reading Kyphosis
she occupies the cusp where shoppers exit bringing out privilege’s bright shadows filmed in plastic the weather pretends nothing here no friends no green lace no cushioning from glare see fingers bared to frost-wounds like bloodied stars and skin broken open in climate’s heave & yaw amongst this dirt, this raw rasp of pavement life … Continue reading Mary
Clover Hitch the clover is in full reach again path’s curve swoons beneath and when rain gallops a million pale dots across the park I see little white flowers fragmented by the storm spring gathers what summer deploys At dVerse this week, Bjorn asks us to create our own aphorisms. I came up with "Spring … Continue reading #dVerse Aphorisms
He comes the other way, a belly of puffing in his mouth. A child’s floral sun hat rests on his bald head and he carries an oven rack that swings with his stride. My mind dandles oddities knowing he’s done my work for me. dVerse Quadrille "work" hosted by msjadeli
"Sky above Clouds by Georgia O'Keaffe" imagine if lily pads were white the polka dot of ponds & frogs glare-blind, still blinking that’s what I see on a wandered Sunday when yellow is the primary fruit seven cockatoos splay a bush & like big white magnolia flowers they oblige the afternoon with glowing & above … Continue reading Excuse Me
This is for Visual Verse Anthology September issue. I haven't posted the image in case others want to submit. This poem will not be submitted. we make the clouds clouds of spume of earth’s breath we’re all waiting for Numeena, waiting in the light-scuffed sea here, here she comes now stepping down from the iron-filing … Continue reading the night the clouds were freed
DARK MATTER will we find the fabric of darkness buried in a mine shaft? this scrim tide that hurricanes through me might leave its finger print on pure crystal like a disrespectful thief, then in dogmatic spin hold its skirt hems tight to its centre and never be seen again. This was written for Twiglet … Continue reading Twiglet #294
We borrowed our shoes from a dinosaur on the hill each foot crashing with indispensable decisions - mammoth & satisfying. Giant houses & wrathful money seem smart in the clammy fists of men until cash tires & desire becomes jaded, slipping to the floor like damp newspaper. Frogs, fat on sugar & the gratis of … Continue reading Shoes of Dinosaurs
Pick a venue now, bouncer in black curly ear-cord heading ‘round the back like his old house phone’s been filed hidden tight away, like his neoprene smile. A line of glitz straggles from the stairs bum skirts, high heels, production hair strapless bras, assets wrapped for display, earrings dangle long, the click and sway. Dudes … Continue reading Those Old Days
Season of immolation guts & bones ribs seared to white sun-glare, heat-dash pebbles’ broken-tooth chatter underfoot, a rolled ferry carcass, & bridges that span simmering air. Water runs, they say to some finish line taking life with it. From rock to rock we mark the passing - rivers as graveyards - such fundamental deaths. Written … Continue reading Water Runs
Out of the Cave 