National Poetry Writing Month 2022, Day 3

My Day 3 poem, based on the prompt at ‘Doucement, ne les dérangez pas.Il y a des gens qui vivent comme ça.Les artistes de demain.En desespoir agréable.’ —David Sylvian, Despair Another quiet night, a blue light glowemanates from the other side of the room,a gentle stream of indistinct soundto smooth away edges unseen, but [...]

Week 4/Day 3. Dynasties (a poem)

This is my third poem of week four of the online retreat.  1 Trumpet breasted kings tear flesh Purple mouth beaks taste eye fruit rich dark scarlet. orange coronal. potent. The year, solitary, disconsolate down to the garden well peeling death drips great red burrows 2 A mother kneeling Dark, golden scents open, green grasses [...]

Week 1/Day 3. born of Old Depression, she sleeps (a poem)

This is my third poem of the online retreat. temporal clarity as a pointed peak poking around morphine fog a picture painted in stochasm a misaligned screen through which ink no rose no glass oceans of atoms murky heavens in mushroom squelch neighboring metals rust silently the amusements of a young girl fold like irons [...]

National Poetry Writing Month 2019 Day #3 (pt. 2)

Here I use the prompt: to write ‘something that involves a story or action that unfolds over an appreciable length of time.’ The doors close the air in the last car of the train is crushed and compressed The distance to the other side of the moment does not grow shorter But now it’s [...]

National Poetry Writing Month 2019 Day #3 (pt. 1)

Here I use the prompt provided by poet (and bookstore owner) Chris Jarmick on his blog, POETRYisEVERYTHING. This prompt involves threes. This is what I did with that: Cubes and cubits and curettage the list of possibilities is merely possible Certainty comes only after every avenue is exhausted and you have to admit what should [...]

National Poetry Writing Month 2017, Day 3

My third poem for National Poetry Writing Month uses the prompt from, which is to write an elegy, with a focus on something unusual about the person or thing being mourned. My poem is addressed to a friend of mine who died about two-and-a-half years ago, and a weekend spent with her and a group of [...]