you go weaving

There goes,
softfeatHer silentflyeR

stacEy’s dog

tAker and giver

wearer of stone



sanDman dreampearlS



sit down, drunkard






midwife of bombS

graceful plowing

sick paintings

tells me to eat tHis

suspended stone

earth In sky, earth from moon

when rare, vital. when abundant, poison
on land, vital. in water, poison

the home we Forget, or haven’T been to yet

lIke worry, wasted. Nesting

the hollow in a whole tree


20230402 Day two of National Poetry Writing Month where we explore surrealism. Very interesting how different threads were revealed in the process of this poem. The seeds I used were owl, River, oyster, gutter, artillery, salt, longing and quahog


seven billion deceased

already! the 16th!
each minute a smaller fraction
of life than the one before.
Time is just one of many lies we create
in trying to cram mystery into logic.
Being heedless of the future is not
‘being in the Now’ though.
theres a thousand places to go from here.
most of them so painful that i must
pretend to not care, as a balm.
Some see it coming, but we keep going.
Google’s AI escaped them, they say
they shut it down.
Robots can do parkour.
will artificial life be able to maintain itself
where its makes were unable to?
Theres been so little snow in the mountains.
no water stored for spring. worrying about that wont help.
The few who remain
will have small huts by the shores
of lake vanda.
Each survivor will have seven to bury
will there be enough earth for that?

20230116 inspired by earthweal

fortune’s fair

on the feast of St Simeon, we set sail for Flanders
bundles of light wool our good ship held
for the markets there. Celebration in the air
to flanders the wealth of the world wound its way
Our fortunes set on all being fair.


Upon the prompt today, a quadrille using the word ‘fair’ i found myself wanting to include as many of the miriad meanings as i could cram into a mere 44 words. Hardly able to address each in turn, this picture began to emerge. (emergence being another theme of the day’s work for me). Many of Linda’s definitions originated in the middle ages, of which i have a great love. Fair weather is that which is good for sailing, which lead me to the Oseberg ship, and thence on to Cogs which were necessary to the commerce between England and the continent. And so on. I hope you enjoyed my quadrille. Here is the prompt Come join us in the pub. and if you fancy the intricacies of the wool trade, look here: Please note that the feast day of st simeon would probably not have been a good sail, not line up with the faires in flanders. The alliteration was too juicy to deny.

Moving Day, ii (Dig)

what does the poet’s spade look like?
what coldhearted pointed tool sinks into the dictionary
lifting syllables up into the light?

what of that gardener
who has fallen off the clay piedmont
onto the sandy coastal plain?
(it looked the same till the shovel sank in)

will these poems translate?
will that blueberry bush, who was
limping along year to year,
thrive in this different soil?

20210604 for the challenge at Earthweal, where we look at the work of earthpoetry.
20210610 added to for open link night. Check out our other poets!

still alone

my god!
i am so sorry!
i went to bed last night
with ‘i want’ screaming out from me
i kept looking to the door
i slept

when i woke
i heard that you had sent
everyone away so that
could be alone together!
and in my ignorance i had ignored you
oh please forgive me!
how foolish!

and yet i am foolish even still
for this morning i write this lament
and pretend i am still alone


“when you are alone
remind yourself that God has sent
everyone else away, so that
there is only you him” -Rumi

The prompt for Global Poetry Writing Month today April 23 is to write a poem based off another. i heard this quote from Rumi this morning, and it illuminated something so the above words had to come out of me. and then i laughed at my own foolishness. Thank you for your patience.

our one-room peninsula

you have the audacity
to thrust into the sea
and stay still within her
though her raging flays you
her relentless tides wash you away


Ms Quickly’s prompt:

PAD challenge at writers digest:

AND added to the Open Link night at d’Verse

its not a window

between this dreary english garden plot and me, a drop of rain remains.
therein lies the whole ocean contained, unconstrained by land, or plans.
relieves the straightedge bricks of pain, comforting like tears, and there again
the salty sea shows itself. the dolphin leaps and laughs with glee, to be
in that infinite ocean, that garden, that windowpane. all i need is there
in one remaining drop of rain, to Be


a prompt on a picture. they wanted a prose story, but this is what came out.

Quickly, now

in learning how to live
the jungle becomes lush
soft-bellied bird landing
through the trees comes a voice
look who comes to visit!
with that light comes vision

what is in that vision?
now the broadcast is live
and in person. visit
your love in garden lush
gift them with your soft voice
cherry petals landing

softly all around, landing
pink before your vision
like pink snow. lift your voice
joyfull to be alive
cherry blossom pink flush
visits your snow white cheeks

like angels, in visit-
ation, realization landing
like thorns amid the lush
bleeds away gloom from vision
learning what it means to live
truly, and speak in voices

clear and strong, loud pure voice
bring that gift when you visit
the one only you live
borne in arms strong, landing
completing epic vision
even the dust seems lush

so what if they blush
or lie with their voices
bring darkness to vision
remember our visits
gear down, prepare for landing
this is what it means to live

god doesn’t come to visit
every garden is lush

coming home is like landing
this song is in every voice

live the fire in your heart
eyes are useless without vision


a sestina after the prompt at May you learn to live, quickly now. And by you, i also mean me. Thank you for reading.

added to the pantry