dogtrax

A place to gather words before they get lost.

We thought it was surprise snow, in June, in middle America, because we were young and didn't know any better, the two of us, barely still boys, in that old Buick, barreling back to New England, from Madison, the mission to Wisconsin to woo her back, a failed one, but still, a college break adventure, and it was a swarm of bugs, not flakes, a night cloud of them knocking glass and waking us up so fully with surprise we finally laughed at it all, and that's what we still remember the most: the storm of insects clouding our view as we drove east, back towards home

for #openwrite

Deception, then: this morning's quiet is anything but, as I listen more closely, to hear:

the high frequency hum of the fridge the punctuated sound of the sump pump the whooshing of dehumidifier, cycling on/off the singing of birds through an open window the long sigh of the dog stretching on the couch the lone car, decelerating, a voice on radio the daily newspaper landing on driveway

I sit, sip and write

for #DS106 Daily Create

Even broken strings on an old broken guitar sing in deep repose;

the memory thrums - the hand strums an architecture of notes

Somewhere, that familiar song still plays in a broken key; its resonance, floats

for #OpenWrite

Inked words stumble on the page

What I mean to say is that a poem takes shape different on paper than a screen —

I am forever in revision in the words in-between

for #ds106 Daily Create (handwritten poem) https://flic.kr/p/2rhm1cK

Finally: heat breaks; we cool off with our eyes closed, drinking in the air

Her response levies passionate fireworks and exclamation points

A doorway, opened rather unexpectedly - the tongue constructs a map of the space between where words escape, our stories

(post-tooth extraction poem)

Night's tidal currents push and pull the shifting sands; sculptures by morning

Heaven Help Us: There Are Rivers In The Sky - Signs Of Life - Atmosphere Belonging

Book Spine Poetry for #ds106

The land drinks quick of the water gift of clouds; its parched lips, glisten