Thursday, May 30, 2013



Wiregrass and sassafras
strangle in the dust
of the dreadful dream.

Starwine and alkaline
bottled in the past,
the cellared scream

of something trapped
something up-lapping
dry stream.

Hyacinth vine and columbine
trail over the
jagged hole

in vulture sky, alibi
for the heat he stole

so long ago
 he saw her soul.

~May 2013

55 nibbles at the liver for    the g-man

Image: Prometheus, by Arnold Böcklin, 1883
Public domain, via

Wednesday, May 29, 2013



Wrinkled pansy sky,
a sunshadow day
where you're constantly 
the clouds out 
of your eyes;
wrapped in a raincoat
of insect 
and bird bubbles,
earthcrumble fingers, a
sway-bending partner of shovels,
slide-pusher of rake backs,
leveling the world
to make a saferoom 
for what's born
to blow away.

 ~May 2013

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Challenge: Words Count with Mama Zen
The terse and tres talented Mama Zen's challenge today is to  'Imagine yourself in the safest place you've ever known,' and write about it in 53 words or less. I have actually come in *under* the word count, for the first time ever.

Monday, May 27, 2013

Spring Song

Spring Song

The cat's paw is in the wave.
The mouse ship is bound for the grave.
The sailors all are sleeping.
The sailors all will sleep.

The wolf maw is in the water.
The bobbing boat is a rabbit's daughter.
The water wolves are eating.
The wolfen all will eat.

The moth's wing is unfolding the sun.
The pink in the flower has barely begun.
The irises are singing.
The iris all will sing.

The heart's spring is in the meadow,
the harvesting will surely follow
what sowers all are bringing,
what lovers all will bring.

~May 2013

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Open Link Monday

Process Notes: Yes, I read myself to sleep with Yeats last night.

Image: Irises, by Vincent Van Gogh, 1889
Public domain.

Friday, May 24, 2013

Urban Refusal

Urban Refusal

I remember, mostly,
the sunlight, the dirt that danced,
the gleam off glass, for sunlight does fall
on the damned
and even the concrete bleeds green
when the cavalry of weeds
sabers it apart.

Every day
when I ran away,
I saddled my pink Schwinn
palamino for the broken brick trails, cap gun on hip,
free running in sun that stroked silver
 a handlebar mane, free not to feel,  just to
 ride for the Duke and his five-pointed star.

She let him hurt me but
he never scared me. 
I smelled his weakness, a clowning
in smoke and beer, his wet whiskey blankets
that cold-covered nothing. I knew I was already
gone where he would never be
even if at night there was

no sun and the Duke
was somewhere else.

~May 2013

posted for    real toads
Challenge: Fireblossom Friday
Location, Location, Location!
The ever versatile Fireblossom asks us to write a poem where location is important, or as she puts it, "...just make sure that the "where" of the poem is a vital part of it." 

Optional Musical Accompaniment

Image: 1950's Pink Schwinn, ©GlamourGirlChic2012 via

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Heart Defended

Oklahoma National Guard
Heart Defended

The house cracked open
in the hands of the storm
all except for its heart,
 and its hard rib-bone.

It gave up no secrets
 from down on its knees,
just its pale flesh, wind-mingled
with the lives of trees.

The debris ball bounced;
things flew, things ended.
Walls turned to wind,
but the heart defended.

~May 2013

55 bits of whirling debris for     the g-man

For those interested in contributing to Red Cross Disaster Relief for the Moore Oklahoma tornado, here is the link:

Hover mouse for image attribution, or click to go to the photographer's flick'r page.