Treasured poetry and bargain prose await all who enter here.
Cobblestones rise up from Walensee past the cottages of Quinten, a place no tires have tread. Hidden in the hillside, a cellar with homemade delights, Quintensaft, pickled plums, and fresh wildflower honey, just leave your francs in the bin. A ways uphill, a small stand with saffron soap and lavender salts perch beside a mason […]
MorePlaying in the peeling waves,young knaves,garlands from the maypolerippling round their heads,the freshest flowers of springbobbing up and downin the icy sound’s bed. Feet spread,playing in the party wavesnobody behaves,her titties tidal slaves,a-frame crashers,sets and heartbeatspounding faster,but for now, it’s playfulankle slappers. Playing in the racy waveseach man’s his own sloop,buoyancy’s slaves,groins in the greenroomof […]
MoreDear Celestine, Cliffside like half-sheared sheep,clouds that diffuse when steeped,steaming out the sky as snow, white-outretracting your mountainous glow. Oh Celestine, The whole hillsides been bourgeoisied,a golf course of putting greens,your lake an evaporating puddle,a watering hole for the overpowering junglebarely reflecting back peaks and sky,the unseen picture frames of our lives;the wrapping paper of […]
MoreFell asleep beneath your fallen boughs, woke with luck at dusk. The thickest air, my private patio, your fallen black and blue, a perfect towel, for lounging in the setting sun, my pool. Forgetting pride, within your shadow I reveal what poets hide. My verse, a final minty kiss on scarred higher ground. My hands […]
MoreWe are the three swaddled onestrying to learn the walls of our new cocoon.Raising up fists to feel the limitsof our own imaginations.
MoreTraded Bess for some beans,but beans are seedsplanted proudly,rooted in determination,producing something from nothing-rabbits in hats,replenishing themselves,magic fountains of youth.The seeds of knowledgeoffer the same truth,should you plant them regularly,encourage them to grow. Merril is host for d’Verse’s Quadrille #127-Planting Seeds. A quadrille is simply 44 words, excluding the title. It written as any type […]
MoreThe white of the sky blends into the thighsof the bobbling, blubbery ocean.It’s her time of the month,and she is bloated with clouds-rocks like areola lie sore among her shore.This daily flow of rain, a burden to bear,but she must keep pace and force out air.Winds to push the sails of men casting nets,mirrored in […]
MoreThrough tickly tidal grass,we move by memorya familiar access path.Bare feet forming craterson cool mare sand. We spread a neon afghan,sip pink martini twilight,awaiting light hors d’oeuvres,each morsel a tiny lick,the magic of a night picnic.
MoreI’m the only naked onehere on my family treewalking bareno need for underwearthrough my living roomwhere two that grew withinmy wombare nesting on the couchwatching the glow of their screensthe seed of their life forceready for harvestis busy sharpening kitchen knives.
MoreThrough the window, I peek and pretenddangling snowflakes are Dogwood petalsfrom the sturdy tree in my old front yard,drifting to rest peacefully in an empty bed. But instead, I find hard-headed haillanding, white ants sprawling everywherein a shameful winter temper tantrum.Widowed clouds pass, hanging their heads. Alas, I cover my mouth in regret to seethe […]
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