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One Nation

June 16, 2017 Leave a comment

A country emptied by the fear of war.
from The Dream of Lee, Reynolds Price

WE sat together in a coffee bar,
sheltered from the gentle autumn wind,
streaming the speech of Russian subterfuge
an out-of-style wartime
dream, a shadow war played out
on social networks filled up by the fear
of truth.

Categories: Prompts

How Soon the Sound

May 22, 2017 5 comments

How soon the sound turns to gibberish, the
way form follows meaning into blind alleys. Listen:

I just got through playing Bach suites on
the wrong instrument for them, the wrong way,
most likely, but as it was it was meaningful,
as it was.

 

Written in response to a dVerse prompt: write a quadrille, using the word sound.

Categories: Prompts Tags: , ,

Sonnet: The View from the False Door

January 11, 2014 9 comments

There is little to be
seen outside my door
which doesn’t open. I see
a shrub, wooden fence, and four

houses ranged close, paranoid
in their huddled, gap-toothed
yards with their backs avoid-
ing contact with me. Truth

to tell, we all avoid this backyard
meeting. Privacy fences are tall
sentries against each other’s hard
gazes from kitchen blinds that fall.

We meet each other in the way
we wave politely at the end of day.

Not my best effort, but it is an English sonnet, and I wrote it in response to this dVerse prompt.

Categories: Debugging, Prompts Tags: , ,

140 leaves 137

January 10, 2014 6 comments

 

A response to a dVerse Prompt. Go make your own!

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After a Year of Drought

July 27, 2013 9 comments

We went to my friend’s lake house
hoping the water was still up to the dock.
It was, but mud ran alongside the pilings,
made it look like a construction site,
with bottles, cans, and one boot
of a sort fashionable among young girls
in 2003.

Or as if the land was creeping back
to reclaim its own, after
the Hydroelectric Act of 1939
or whatever thing the legislature enacted
between dime-cigar bets and happy girls

flooded the land between two counties
mocking that part of creation where
dry land divided the waters and it was good

but it was also good to get out
on a boat and see the pine trees whizz by
like a flooded out interstate,
or Venice writ large and southern-style.

My friend pointed out trees
hanging on to dry land
roots leached out of the water
like receding gums,
or an uprising.

written in response to a dVerse prompt.

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The Dream of Tartness

July 13, 2013 10 comments

Often after a trauma
there is the mundane revery
if I could only
mine was a dream of an unbearable tartness
in a drink of volcanic coldness
I sipped metallic hospital crushed ice water
tried not to vomit up the simplest of soups

normally there is the gift of not desiring
the smell of nausea clings to things
that can’t be kept down but

I conjured up something like limeade
as a nuclear bomb is something like a firecracker
while the tubes of lukewarm glucose, morphine
and hot piss kept me alive.

written in response to a dVerse prompt

Donut Shop Moment

March 3, 2013 7 comments

nothing can ever taste
as good as the smell
pavlovian anticipation
of red flashing neon
green glass
and white counters

Read more…

Categories: Prompts Tags: , ,