Lee Dunn

Sixty something working stiff (retired). Avid reader, dreamer, and searcher. I write poetry, short stories, and non fiction. Shades of the surreal, the horrific, the nostalgic, and the humorous. I have had work published in the Shelburne Free Press, on Spillwords Literary Press, and in print at Crepe & Penn Poetry.

By the sea

Clarice sees the Sea, breathes its dreams, soaks in its mists by a foggy rock. When all the world’s compasses begin to list to her true north, Clarice will speak in tongues, and name the Suns, in legion. Glory will be to the one who is not named, and who was the maker of her […]


Planters wart

Johnny-come-lately, I plant bulbs stupidly in the cooling earth under powder of snow with a straight spade I dig up cake-flaps of sod I disregard directions and just drop them in, the oniony things. This blasted blizzard. I drop to one knee, hard of breathing, hit by BB’s of ice


a longing

gimme that potato salad with the mustard sauce and the bacon those fried mushrooms with the smell rising mind my big nose pressed flatly against foggy glass approve my flirtatious hands as they make fake feetprints for amusement, in lieu of art, on grey glass in threenight, i will be at this same tall door […]



Originally posted on Within A Forest Dark:
Boa, Jonathan Kriz, flickr North Carolina summer night at Mama’s, with Jeff playing with the boa as it arcs and stretches toward the chandelier, the sweet scent of mountain laurel wafting through the window, Jeff and I doubled in fits of laughter, high. Mama turning on the light,…



Wingbeats drum my thin window The moth is frantic for the feeble light Powder prints on the glass shown out as mica glitter And i am reminded of bird hits and premature burials These things, innocent and pure, do not have duplicity. Only nature. My desklamp, a false guide. My window, invisible. These i must […]


In flight

Soul-spoken spirit, unbound, in flight. Pineal eye gets a look. Events celestial. Of a hair’s breadth am I, in this filament. Then, a promise warms me like an innocent’s blush. And now this mote understands.