RSS Feed

In Other Words, Awake

Written to a prompt-list from the very fun Sunday Whirl:

It’s a very small door
and who knows, without
alarm bells we might
never find it. For hours
we make sense of every
single thing the silver flowers
coworkers swimming in
the sharkening light even
the shine of the Model T Ford
careening down the hill
full of girls with enormous
hats frilling in the breeze
carrying bags of chicken thighs
as presents for the king. Talking
cats, pie plates the size of your thumb,
purple opossums, none of it seems
odd until you listen to the bell
and ease your self back to this World
full of objects that make perfect sense
with no help from you.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

The Sketchbook

MOSTLY MONTREAL, MOST OF THE TIME

Red Wolf Prompts

I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"

typewriter rodeo

custom poems on vintage typewriters

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice

Writing the Day

A Poetry Practice

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment

leaf and twig

where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry

%d bloggers like this: