to lie in summer grass uncut by suburbia or the commerce of hay to lie in this aura, this odor of soil and cured grass, to lie under the flagging blooms of Timothy, Brome or Western Bunch bannering against a blue so vast that whole lives cannot know it, to lie in this overture of … Continue reading To Lie in Summer
I’m rising to the twelfth floor on a slow dangle when it stops on three and what can I do? I sigh and snap watchward glances, but in elevators and buses you go where and whenever you’re taken, so I dangle and wait. And the elevator door-wings slide wide on an angel, a young creature … Continue reading A Short Story of Lofty Longing
Silence of fingers hovering; scent before her voice in the thorned room of rose and carnation where light echoes all this and every sentiment on glass of window, fluted salute, and wandering specs. Posted in response to the RPD word do the day: patterns
-Visit mom in hospital -Pick up my C-PAP Those sun lit mountain peaks—so far way
O that rascal with his tassels, his garnishery and frilly finery O, curse the flouncery of his filigree, O, that rascal and his tassels. He wooed dear Gladys with his foppery; with sly coxcomb pompery he flirted his ruffling tassels; with brazen foofaraw doodaddery he pawned on my Gladys castles. With eyelash tassel moonery that … Continue reading O That Rascal with his Tassels
Empty all but pulse and blood from who you are and hope to be. Let drum, whose primal name is heartbeat, prime your pulse. Then walk. "How to Dance" first appeared in a collection entitled Dazed Part of Light, by Lee Robison.
As far as I can see is snow with just the darker gray of rock and, under the mountain fog, the dark of darker fir and pine. and near my window the willow the leafless vibrant brown of willow. A challenge to the Ragtag Community word of the day, iridescence. It is just not a … Continue reading The Nadir of Neutral
For every blue, a craving burns orange; for every violet, flames a yellow desire; in every hot heart smolders embers of emerald. And every white hunger ashes a black want.
Snow sifting through thorns:: old couple:: no need to speak of odor of roses.
Underwater liver, hider behind rotted sog logs mover that moves in a quiver from dark water to darker, I lure you with plastic pollywog from water. Avid hand distorts in reach to retrieve you, refracted numbed else thing underwater, touches slick shiver never knew before. You bring so much (not to mind, for mind cannot … Continue reading A Fish