#smallpoems #NaPoWriMo #clmooc Do histories relish in future's unwoven strings as tomorrow comes encroaching on today letting time unfold on wings of a Clay Colored Sparrow taking first flight New life nestled against shrubs needling our soul Every year sparrows seek the trees for a first, second third chance at destiny Today, nest is bare, pale grey birds,
#smallpoems My fingers root in gardens of meaning dirt of broken half bent souls collecting under chewed and cracked nails Knuckles ripped caked blood and mud congealing in folds of forgotten feelings Grasp of realities prance, Br'er Rabbits cultivating reside of reason through the toil of soils in stolen time embroiled in rhizomatic seasons ready to coil at
#smallpoems Creatures lay dormant tucked in fetal position claws scraping on sinew of your soul until drips of Dionysus's residue drip past broken realites an encrusted eye opens and it begins devouring and dancing upon time's imagined future
#SpecualtiveEd Sit not Sentinel, staring wantingly at gatekeepers A Snowball of insignificance Sit not Sentinel, stoutly, in cardboard ticky tacky structures long past shelter, shackles of hope and promise Sit not, Sentinel, cheering a changing of the guard Instead strike flints of Speculation to spark wafery-thin papery perspectives into Endarkend Dreams of
Bout to walk my son, the youngest, bucket in hamd down to the crik to collect water to flush the John I should probably write a poem about this.. Someday, what happens with the third Kid. #smallpoems
#smallpoems #coronaschooling Yellow and orange buses snake our hallways generator's hum keeping time My back creaking laptop my only heat crouched on floor cramped in son's room Eight Note March assessing his clarinet playing on our shared hot spot the wifi, not the computer in my lap
bats hang empty crying for the fence stitched leather of routine gathering dust discarded in cardboard boxes undreamt globes spring nights silent No quarrel of two struck lovers driven to meet so destiny can tear them apart #smallpoems
Grey scale pastels cast darkness over our moonlit canvas An emotional swirl in hundred of colors leaving me tired, streaks of stuttering monochrome film trapped in a technocolor world #smallpoems
#smallpoems #clmooc Amazing how fast meaning shifts stating "I can't" So definite. Yet add a Why meaning flies When "Why can't I" rolls off the tongue unlimited possibilities untwist from time Power fed to the powerless All in three letters W-H-Y
Why can't I sleep why can't I cry? why can't I pee why can't I concentrate Why can't I burp, sneeze, find a job, poop? Why can't I sleep at night Maybe I shouldn't ask all these questions
I can't sleep I can't breath I can't stand the rain I can't I can't drive 55 I can't help myself I can't wait I can't stop loving you I can't get no satisfaction Why Can't I?
When you teach a biologist to write poetry you learn things mycorrhizal mishaps in firing synapses gashes in knowing dashed into verse so instead of one guy writing a poem we have four poets writing about fungi. #smallpoems #clmooc
@wentale @dogtrax @telliowkuwp @NomadWarMachine @niall_barr searchiing web for truths of this fungi network to write a poem. Intentional Other times, words, like now, just spill Those poems accidental #clmooc #poetry #smallpoems
#smallpoems Poetry picks at pretentious poses of prose, Exposes holes taking tolls on truths no one owns how one knows what poetry is semantics,syntax antics , and panics, which flow through dry beds of borrowed meaning as truth escapes in soundscapes and blank space where adverbs once inhabited. no thesis to please us but truth honed on stones of emotional
#smallpoems People will ask me what a poem means and I will say, "What I needed it to?" And hope they walk away Yet they gawk at each allegory. A hawk hunting on gales of hidden truths like each stanza a tattoo on my soul and they rudely ask, "Wha'ts that mean?"
#smallpoems This Good Friday I seek shelter behind a rock it didn't block no cave or nothing Just the wind Micha trespasses through quartz and limestone of a foot rest Journal splayed, like thoughts over knees Then finally as the third stanza rises the sun comes out again
#smallpoems When you find you way to Sheepskin Hollow After the bridge; the one spanning a crik pointing first to the lake and down to our Tidal River You will see a wooden stake. Chevron carved deep and painted blue. Stay right After walking awhile a crest of one hill really You will come across if you look closely a blue marker absconded a painted wooden b