Sunday comes on sober legsher brow lit by a pale sundrowned by each and all;
A free verse poem modeled after Edip Cansever’s “The Table”, as prompted in How to Grow Your Own Poem by Kate Clanchy
A phrase bubbling under then a conversation unlocks it
night amplifies the love lifeand proliferates the griefwhen you have so much in your…
I wanted to be someone who’d bring an old clock to the local horologist for repair.
Feeling badly about myself without any palpable reason, I sat with my scattered pile of books. A smattering of…
Does love rekindle? spark declines,ashes smoulder,hate and grime,clouds dissemble,heart’s incline,dissent dismembers,fond thoughts…
Marcus smiled down at Destiny. “May I buy you a drink?”
In the evening, there is no movement on the manor grounds, only a soft wind in the leaves of the great lindens and oaks…
Greta watched the world go by. And yet there it remained.