Frozen angles and jagged geometric shape; a fallen snowflake
A place to gather words before they get lost.
Frozen angles and jagged geometric shape; a fallen snowflake
Inside a canvas painted white with winter ink, the Evergreens dance
You see the whole of things, Charles Wallace, while we capture only the softest of edges
It's almost as if you're invisibly threaded in connection to your sister, her thoughts in the night like starlight,
and yet, you fall silent near strangers, observant as always, always noticing the slightest twitches in the fabric of time
You might do well to learn to wear humility as a blanket, for the universe depends upon you
a poem inspired by A Wrinkle In Time
for #OpenWrite
Winter wind, whipping through fields – a storm's been brewing: panic on the loose
Beneath snow, ice — an invisible layer of danger
Tread carefully where nature is known to harden in form
We wander this world always on the edge of collapse
for #OpenWrite
A smile, etched in snow, a gesture to let you know there's love in the world
Worse than silence, the tenor sax sounds wounded, like an old cat in the corner of a room - out of tune and out of sorts – my breath, of course, out of sync with its notes: it's broke but can be fixed; it's this I think about in the days it lays open on the workshop table, the technician like surgeon taking my Martin apart – reduced to pads and keys and levers and springs – things just scattered about - piece by piece by piece, until that moment of re-connection, when repairs have been complete
for #OpenWrite about healing and hurt (Martin is a brand of tenor saxophone)
Deep in the pockets of my uncle's overcoat, an old note, he wrote
Inks of rain; Life, described, then realigned - fits between lines in unanimous silence; Choose a word, then a moment, to edit, design, distribute, as nothing burns outside our bodies: poetry as broken intimacy
An etheree mirror poem for #OpenWrite using Vintage Vanity by Terrance Hayes as foundational text https://poets.org/poem/vintage-vanity
A grove of saplings on the edge of the forest pines for days to come