Tag: poetry

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #91

A week from now, the sea willbend itself back, pulling at theedges of continents and islands, tugging them together again with the slow patient touch of a long-loved grandfather. Yesterday, I dreamt about the long journey it would take to shorten this distance; in a snowy terminal,flanked by snaking briar trees naked for the winter, […]

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #90

There is a slack in the arm,where the elbow bends taut like a crane dipping its head into the water. Its beak disappearingonly to reeemergefilled with fish. The way the scales must run,all slimy and cobblestone,down the tongue. To cut to the point I am feeling like a felled treethe thud of timber muffled on […]

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #89

An intruder in the garden, two steps by two steps. We are alone but only for the brief periodbetween one hue of the sky to another. The sun sets too soonfor any work to be done and we are home again Waiting for the minute hand to lay itself on twelve Twelve handsTwelve bodies Twelve […]

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #88

Variations on a theme. The taste of freshly cut pear in the mouth, theoff tune of seagulls by the pier. The swirl of wine in a green glass bottle. In this poem, we are going, back to a timewhen we did not know what it took to hurt one another. People strolling down the sidewalk, […]

FREEWRITING EXERICSE #86

Silence, then. Silence on a silver platter, silence in the central column of our spines.Silence in the hallways. Threesteps down a wooden staircase,the familiar gallop of a manrushing on his way to work;his hands running down the bannister as though a flourishon a keyboard. In the deep thick mud of my insignificant anxieties I find […]

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #85

Arms take to music, each limb a swaying branch, my room anopera’s booth; music streams softly down the mountains of my shoulders. I am perpetual in rehearsal, drinking in the introductory steps to how I canbe art, which is to say. how I can obfuscate which I am to say.I imagine the artist’s mind like […]

FREEWRITING EXERCISE #84

Always defined by what we lack, the donut made wholewith its hole. I am not true;I have not been to anyoneit seems. In me, a lack of concrete. Of grounding. Acloset full of masks – or are they all the same face?I have grown too weary to try each one in the mirror.So I find […]