• autism,  dverse poets,  Love,  magic,  music,  Nara Malone,  neurodiversity,  Poetry,  silence

    Silent Love Song

    Santa Fe Trail 28 Mar 2010 by Brokentaco, on Flickr I never was the queen of chat.Monthly minutes used on my phone tend toward single digits. I never minded your silence.I think you’re quiet because you’re listening.Listening intently,with more than your ears. I’ve seen you on a summer night,shirtless,rocking in time to crickets and katydids,each beat of breath in rhythm, as if  your cells breathe sound rather than air. I’ve seen you transfixed by the swoosh of waves,arms spread wide like a bird poised for take-off,as if you can catch the vibrations in hollow-flute bones,let the boom of surf against rock lift you like song into the clouds I’ve seen…

  • bad love,  dverse poets,  river of words,  writing addiction,  Writing Life

    River Junkie

    Where adjectives cling like thorned vinesalong weed-choked banksWhere adverbs form rock gardens, sinking prose in their hollowsWhere commas gather in the bends,claw-like strainers snaring the untrainedWhere stretches of boiling pontification,or fancy turns of phrase, swamp mindsWhere plump poetic pillows,or thoughtless critique, splinter fine craftWhere I fell in love with tones resonatingunderneath the surfaceWhere the play of light around recursive lines seduced meWhere the flow of words is my addiction,a bad-boy lover I can’t give up This post was written in response to this week’s Carry On Tuesday prompt and in response to dVerse Poets Open Mic Night. Click the links to see what others have written or to join the…

  • dverse poets,  Lost in words,  Poetry,  Writing Life

    Lost

    I get lostSomewhere between coffee and breakfastI got lostI tumbled through cream rendered cloudsinto the black caffeinated depths of an all-night dinerAnd there I was ensnared by the couple making love with their eyesover juice and toast I get lostSomewhere between ordering hash-browns and dousing them in ketchupI got lostBefore the first forkful found my mouthA woman extracted herself from a cup of coffee with a notebook and penInky blue lines curled up from coffee-stained pages to ensnare me I get lostSomewhere between the gleam in your eye and the promise in your smileI got lostI tumbled into possibilitiesWhere I might goWho I might beIf I don’t let you take…