Wasn’t his type:lipstick, pierced ears, cool chiclooking for a light.
Above me, green pom-poms rustle in the trees like the ones my sister held above the artificial turf at our … More
Ingrid is the host for Poetics at the d’Verse Poet’s Pub. She asks us to take inspiration from birds of … More
Grumpy skies,cranky flat cloudforms my pillow;tucked to one side.Thunder grumblesas letdown lightning strikes. Pitter-patter,pins and needles,my sullenness pours.Gurgling gutter,I’m pulled … More
“It’s lopsided.” “Better?” I shift the shield over Brenda’s eyes. Adjust her metal cave. Clank on the side a few … More
Draw a box,hopscotch,tippy toes,count and hop.This spring,my son’s Titanic sinksin the concrete sea.Impressionistic flowers,daughter’s rainbow fingersarch with belief.I raise my … More
Happy Easter! I’m traveling today, so I thought I’d re-post some Easter-themed pieces from the past, you know, just in … More
“Tree’s dead.” Grayson pointed at it on our way to fetch the children from school. I followed him, even though … More
Oh, Thesaurus,may your name be sungin the great halls of every library. May you never be confusedwith paltry Theseus who … More
The Quarepuca met me in the squarewith forns of gold but not one hair,his four-leaf charlock held mid-air,pink barber poles … More
DeJackson aka WhimsyGizmo tasked us with summoning our inner muse and creating a quadrille-44 word poem that includes the word … More
I found it only once–a full seashellfloating where waters rescind,spiraling to the heavens in grandiosity.
The truth about tinsel:poor man’s ice,telltale trashbag tree,treebangs of the 80’ssprinkled to hidethe ugly limbs,the dried dull-grey,the balding spots.
Battered women have a tenseness to them. Huddled in a circle at the monthly support meeting, our shoulders connect, stiff … More
I wanna wear a starry crownjangle jewels of joy, let my soul shinedespite the flawed design;seeds scattered in darknesssurvive underground.
Time to take out the creativity kit
channel Betsy Ross and try to stitch
a new flag of unity
from the chiaroscuro scrapes
of tunnel-visioned division,
the bias binding of a social disease
A writer’s inbox is no man’s land. Hit the circular arrow button, but it is returned with a random blitz … More
What if you need a ticket to get in the final show? Or the creator’s a superhero, and you can’t … More
Strike of matchleaf departing treefall of flint and ashsizzling flags set free.Skittering bones, wetrudge the season’s catacombs.