Said the floating head: ~ Tonight, look out over this rippling lake. See those who swim on their backs, just beneath its surface. Their eyes are alight. Their spirits bright. … Continue Reading Commandment
Jacki runs a weekly poetry contest on Twitter. Today she sent along these remarks. I’m cryin’… pic.twitter.com/k2aNQUImFT — J.D. Greyson–No DMs (@JDGreysonwrites) July 21, 2021
Were I to gatherthe rarest of woods,matchsticks in multitude,and vintage amber lac,I would set to the building of that Strad,its secrets laid bare by an angel. And in its voice … Continue Reading In memory
~That night of cold rain, drizzle-trickled on my windowpane. The dark car, half-noticed at first, circled the block like a slow and ominous fish. Dimly lit inside. A Nautilus of … Continue Reading Nautilus
To us they come, as elusive as vision’s veil. Osmotic they seep into clear blue sky, cocooned in the wombs of their dream-home and, as quickly, wink out. They know … Continue Reading Saucers
We are sleeping citizens in a realm of unending light.
Of late, he takes good care of me- that man with the hand in the darkness. He is perfumed with loam and grassiness, and says ~Stay down to this Earth. … Continue Reading That man
I am one for snowy story scenes. For slow walks through the safe streets of Tokyo, abandoned in the rain. For bumper cars, pedal to the metal, connected to a … Continue Reading I am one
In market’s bustle, I buy promises of time- new shoes I don’t need.
In 1922, Barbara and Owen Flynn from Strathmore, California, found a little mountain enclave called Camp Nelson. Following the example of their … An Oasis in a Mars-scape
In an anxious stepping dream, a scruffy old pup (three-legged) said “Thank you” into my ear as I held his hand on the stairs. Down a flight (in the waiting … Continue Reading Disturbed, I nodded . . .
November is when cats die, in my experience. One from a seizure. Two from tiny hearts. They helped with Hallowe’en first, then left me to cry in doldrums of cold. … Continue Reading Seasonal
~The swell and billow of a cloud in the blue hand of the sky. The slowness of its permutations, and how it imagines into life these tiny brown birds who … Continue Reading Reflections
I think of what the skin holds in, what’s in the bone, alone. The finds of the fingers that linger. What’s unsaid beneath the teeth. *** photo credit: https://openchurch.com/free-download/photo-of-womans-face-in-shadows-1004047/
~Somewhere by a brook~I say. A Freudian slip. You say What? What was that? I say ~Nothing~ but can’t keep a leash on plodding thoughts that say ~Plant a small … Continue Reading By a brook
Originally posted on Within A Forest Dark:
View of Chipola River from Porch, Florida Memory, flickr The night my son graduated college I lay in my hotel room and dreamt…