Tag Archives: KindOfNaPoWriMo

[yes, I broke my own rules twice] "Thought Experiment" Sealed inside a soundproof room without doors or windows, an occupant is unable to distinguish between being dangled from a crane above earth or towed through deep space at a constant … Continue reading →

[as agreed-- why, oh why did I agree-- a villanelle. Of sorts.] “Pioneer” The dusty light, cold space, and stars, mark how little we’ve progressed, mocking what we thought was ours. Now just ash where once were towers, the city … Continue reading →

“What the Man Sleeping in the Bus Stop Hut Told Me After Waking Up and Lighting a Cigarette” It’s all fire, you ever noticed that? There are fires burning deep in the earth surviving on ancient seams and gas pockets, … Continue reading →

Peeling skin in the uranium shower Get clean, Mr. Clean Find the handle hanging from the sun, a trap door one small supernova this side of birth. The tattoo on your forearm E = MC^2 = Last Year’s Love sleep … Continue reading →

In my dreams he’s still an infant. I’m cradling him in my arm. His eyes are open, but he fits on my forearm. My palm cradles his head, my fingers easily spanning ear-to-ear. He sees me. I put my hand … Continue reading →

“Re-Entry” At dusk the plane’s contrail slits the sky vertically in the failing light. It could be a plummeting, oxygen masks swinging from lamped gibbets: fasten your seat belt, smoke ‘em if you got ‘em. On the radio a report: … Continue reading →

Tell a story enough or intensely enough  and it becomes real, or indistinguishable from truth, if there’s a difference. That’s the transitive property: If a = b and b = c then b and c must be the same. So … Continue reading →

a poem a day, any length, any form, any subject… for 30 days prompts are OK (tonight I’m using one of Robert Lee Brewer’s prompts) 15 minutes allowed per poem from the moment pen first touches paper no explanations/no excuses … Continue reading →

Your husband two years home from the forests in Germany drinks downstairs over there when the guns were quiet he pictured the soft hairs on your thigh tiny sparks of current arcing across the diamond your knees made drawn up … Continue reading →

Getting down on my knees reminds me of movies where the bad guy makes the good guy kneel for the bullet in the head the contrived coup de grâce and it’s true the one time I had a gun barrel … Continue reading →

Feeling a need to get out of a writing rut that is laying waste to some part of my life (and envious of all those photography nuts with their 366 photos projects), I’m starting my own daily poem project that … Continue reading →