dogtrax

He wanted (something) but only between (the) sleeve (of) my shoulder(s);

(these) hands (were ones) that took photos

(it was) a library from feelings, (but he) found nothing, right?

But I heal; (and) I had (a) friend, there, smiling

An X poem for OpenWrite, using “Bot Therapy” by Mary Norris, via New Yorker

Unplugged curiosity goes by many names, depending on where you live.

Forget what the calendar officially says.

For many young Americans, an otherworldly glow signals the start of summer

But across the country, many harbingers of exploration may be blinking out of existence.

What was once a series of tales from old-timers about the decline of curiosity from the days of their youth is coalescing into an observable truth:

Nearly 1 in 3 moments of curiosity in kids in the United States and Canada may be threatened with extinction, due to digital devices

— for OpenWrite with original text for this Cento poem is from The Washington Post: 'Summer Is Here – Where Are The Fireflies?' https://www.washingtonpost.com/climate-environment/interactive/2023/firefly-summer-extinction/

As the wall of cymbals ring, each soft mallet brings the sound of waves, crashing in our ears

for OpenWrite https://www.ethicalela.com/septercet/ inspired by performance by percussionist Tony Vacca

Morning writing sparks on an idea out of nowhere - somewhere, someone else is making art, too; a collaborative trick of DS106, the threads of connections just click

A Sijo poem for DS106 Daily Create

Ragged edges, scratch skin, red where the blood begins; the rose resistance

Can you imagine that single drop of rain, that watery blur, dancing tango inside the gravitational rhythm of air, the swirling, pulling, pushing, as it's falling – always it's falling - catching one another before finally letting go?

for #WriteOut and #YouAreHerePoetry, inspired by 'Can You Imagine?' by Mary Oliver https://www.nps.gov/places/poetryinparks1.htm as part of Ada Limon's You Are Here project

Tracking in the mud debris from river and glade; Oh, the mess I made

Feet in sand, ocean waves beckon in rhythmic song; currents carry me

… the rivers

will set their stones and ribbons at your door if only

you’ll let the world soften you with its touching

from Reasons To Live Ruth Awad

–

Raw sound bathes the boy, the ripples of river on stone, he submerges himself, nearly but not really, alone, his mind, a million miles from home

Line borrowed from the collection: You Are Here: Poetry In The Natural World Edited by Ada Limon

the moon mistaken for a hole in the sky

from If Fire Jake Skeets

–

fingers in the stars, then,

the galaxy, a tapestry of etchings

I’ve begun to come unwoven again

filling space with words and dreams

Line borrowed from the collection: You Are Here: Poetry In The Natural World Edited by Ada Limon