unforgetting s

It’s going away, fraying–
this tenuous connection–
what is the meaning of never?


Learning new ways
to describe
what isn’t,

we make no
apologies.  Words can’t be
sorry enough.


We learn nothing,
believing we already know.
We fill our plates with emptiness.

unforgetting close up s

A quadrille for dVerse, hosted by Linda.  The word is extinction.


moonsea phone s

blue volcanic dust
scattered over surfaces
solid liquid
forged in chaos

invisible with stillness

do cosmic naiads
sing starsongs
dancing spells to quell

the human stain
of those metallic beasts
who came without

hollow words echo
breaking ancient silences
begun before time

moonsea camera close up s

A quadrille for dVerse.  Lillian has provided the word tranquility.

A word that always makes me think of the moon.  And I was dreaming the other night of naiads, dancing.


quiescence s

absence in the voice
a silence that holds what isn’t said

need hovers with wings
ready to fly into fear

blood too has its stillnesses
the knife that cuts out the heart

the breath holding forever
the part that was written for someone else

quiescence close up s

De at dVerse has given us the word voice for our quadrille this week.  My poem is not a ghazal, but in the spirit of one.

I’ve used this painting before, but I thought it fit the words.



arrayed s

Waves surround being–
always changing
both mover and moved.

The hand opens,
to let light pass

Birds squabble–
brown, ordinary,
almost invisible
in the freckled light.

And a heart
takes something—
call it hope, perhaps–
and dances a little
in the dark

A quadrille for dVerse, also inspired by a prompt from Miz Quickly, above.  I am always intrigued by her prompts, even if I don’t often have time to do them.  In this case it fit in well with my thoughts about Mish’s word, “freckle”.


Except as an Avatar

avatar s

In this shrinking space
fretted with every hue
of greyness
we do not recognize each other–
impatient, we pass by miracles,

mired in a series of staged events

our nights are electronic,
our days surrounded by walls–
our hand held by a tiny machine.

Kim has us considering the word “fret” for our quadrilles this week at dVerse.

avatar close up s