This week’s selection.
You travel light
you long for home
Won’t you call me? I miss you too.
feeling a spiral
the flock of birds
disconnects from the earth and rises
the soul flies out of her body
a shadow dissipating in the doomed glow
of a putrid yellow moon
orange juice and beets
I don’t like the taste of them together
but what a beautiful color pair they are
a chaotic lunchtime
but on the table
plums purr purple in their dish
clacks out a mermaid’s autobiography
Oxygen struggles with sulfurous gases
Losing badly. A new nose just arrived
notices: the afterlife smells like….
I so need a good day today.
Is there one available
at a price I can afford?
gluey and almost translucent,
decked out in too-tight-too-short black bathing trunks
the man strode across the beach, fuming
You cut flowers from my garden
for your mom, said the ogre.
How sweet. Now go and bring me her tooth.
the house is still
there is no answer when I call out
I know he’s gone now many years
But somehow I just can’t believe it
Tight on the one side
loose on the other? Oh my goodness.
Well, Dr. Flaxon did say he was in a bad way all right.
The teapot stamps on the table
rattles its lid. The sugar bowl
cringes. The cup gapes. You know
what happens next.
I made spaghetti for dinner
the baby loves it. Now he’s wearing it
in a three-strand necklace
strung along the lonely road
a gathering of decrepit houses –
fossils of the life here as it used to be
I can never think of that hour without feeling the
pinpricks of what might be altered
if I ever have to re-live it
Stop quibbling. It’s footprints
That’s all you have to remember. Footprints.
That top-heavy cake – you knew the risks so now
detonate it gently like I showed you
and watch out for Grandma
The packed chaotic highway
a perfect site for romance
if you are a car looking to kiss a concrete barrier, maybe
11 thoughts on “Little Vines 11/18/21”
5368 bring back memories, but I love especially 5356. The spiral is exactly how. (K)
I love watching birds in the sky in those big flocks that swirl and recombine and when I caught the word spiral, this is what I thought of.
In the city they sweep from one building across the street to another. I wonder what their secret signal is.
Yes, I’ve wondered that myself.
I’ve been on an ogre kick in the last few months. Don’t know why…
Not only does is phrase “plums purr purple” an absolute joy but your penchant for paint chip cards has me wondering what precise shade of purple “plums purr” would be.
I always think Damson plums. My grandmother made preserves from them.
So did my Granddad. Any time I see a jar of damson jam, it makes me think of him.
I wish to send you a palette of free good days. Oh look, I just did!
I saw it and it’s the perfect answer to this little poem, and so bursting with life and vivacity! Just what I needed. Thank you.
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