My hair has been cut

My dreams have been clipped

Shorn close

Stripped of lush-vitality

My list has been snipped

Ripped off, my wig-hat

Bald shown

My garden has been browsed low

This they say is all so

In lush fullness I can grow


Here is a quadrille for the prompt at https://dversepoets.com/2022/05/30/quadrille-153-out-of-the-meadows-browse/

Come join the fun!



each new trap
is darker
with a bigger maw
and slavering fangs

so go ahead
put the stones on my body
put the boa around my neck
lock the door behind me

forget the net
the oxygen mask
the lifeline

im going in


‘slavering fangs’ is a nod to an early computer game.


i may yet need
to turn that loathesome knob
endure the screeching hinges
leave my footprint in that ashen dust
thick upon the tear stained floorboards
I may yet need
to dare lift my voice in that hollow
and pass that magic mirror
where a demon lurks
risk those reverberations
running down the cellar stairs
(those creaky musty stares)
and pool before his quaking
neglected terrified buster browns



The wild animal catches a whiff
The reptilian brain swift
To stir emotion, motion
The higher brain fills with notion
The heartbeat tide of oceans
Then and when contend
Away from the now they bend
The edge of the cliff is stiff
And so very near!
Clenched in Fear or deep
Into the beer, devotion to
An idea of the world unfurled
Like a flag on a pole, nothing without
Mere wind. We sinned. Out
In a wide world we could get
Away with a great deal
Now it’s too raw to close
To feel. Snared in our own net
Simultaneously reaching and
Recoiling, confusing immediacy
With the present moment.
Headlong! Oh would that we
Had done nothing, pandemically,
Earth shakes off a few million pests.
But would we learn from such
A monstrous teacher?

Grandpa, tell us about the time…

When people were smarter than machines

When government was limited

When there was no surveillance

When elephants and giraffes yet lived

And took biscuits

From your hand with their noses and purple tongues

And you got to drive a car

Unseen by youthful eyes

20220308 for the prompt at

https://dversepoets.com/2022/03/07/eyeing-the-quadrille-147/ this may become part of a larger poem, we shall see

A hall of mirrors

Why is winter easier to accept than looking into the deep opinion of myself? That one that I never reveal but keep inside and lie to myself with.
That outside snow is just as cold and numbs my fingers like the inside snow does my heart, blanketing my psyche, insulating, but none of the pure white glistening. That outside snow gives the smiles from sliding on it down hills, the inside snow crashes me into trees. Outside, the amusement park is closed. Inside the hall of mirrors is open.

They lie to you though. The goal
Is not to escape, but to find which
One is the real you

20220131: haibun from dverse come join the fun: https://dversepoets.com/2022/01/31/haibun-monday-1-31-22-winter/

Even now is too late

I was only a few months old

When Armstrong printed the regolith

Too young to know my grandfather

Too young to learn his teachings.

What could he have told me

About how to live well in this world?

What mistakes to avoid?

So I unearthed what I could of him

In stories records and old photographs

But like a microcosm of my species

Learning from the dinosaurs, what little

I can find ends up in a museum

Or a gas tank


A continuation of the previous post, inspired by earthweal https://earthweal.com/2022/01/17/earthweal-weekly-challenge-native-to-the-now/

Nineteen eighty something spaceman

Things only astronauts have seen

Sights that split you wide open

That sense of awe and wonder

Where everything important falls away

Like a spend rocket stage

No earthbound entity can perceive

Space as anything but empty and


So stare into that void

And turn away from it

Here is the blue marble

So small

So alive

Who among us is not an actor

Playing a role called Me

I’ve got this story about who I am

And what Me means.

There’s a pile of likes

Another of dislikes

And what I can get away with.

Others watch.

Then, curtains and applause.

Which is a huge wind in the ego-sails

That fades, deflates

Then the emptiness becomes harder

To ignore.

The story of who I am that I have

And tell myself, serves, to a point.

The places where it differs with reality

Are where all the problems lie, and

All the difficulties arise.

There are a thousand things the story says are ok

But they’re not.

Your heart knows, your head invents excuses.

In one of us, this battle is waged

But in a group of us, a team

A corporation, a government

Where is the Heart that knows what’s right?

20220119: inspired by earthweal https://earthweal.com/2022/01/17/earthweal-weekly-challenge-native-to-the-now/ and an Amazon documentary about William shatner. I was only a few months old when we landed on the moon.

Oh let me be

Oh let me be

Stick your key

Twist my lid

Open my tinned herring heart

Other organs comb and part

Tie my feet to the mantle ring

My fingers hang on to the stars

This slide is freshly waxed

The light falls right along

Catgut vibrating

I will make you a violin

Wrapped in baleen

Played by your hair

Bound in sound






D’Verse: https://dversepoets.com/2022/01/13/meet-the-bar-with-narrative-nonsense/ Innonsence!