This Now The dog snores.The coffee colds.The heat whirs. Pope JoanHestiaSappho and Marguerite Porete await my attention.The journal pulses. Death is open-mouthedswallowing anotherbody into its belly depth, darkness:the hold before a new birthing untangles into thelight. Grief is agrotto we slink into – weep, laughsigh, sleep. Ourflushed cheeks press againstseashell walls.
Tag: poem
POEM A DAY – March 15
one wing still askew…From After the Chickadee Hits the Window by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer Where are your wings? Around your heart?At the back of your heels?Perhaps on the curve of your hips? Do you manage their strength?Flex them at the gym?Yin yoga stretch them in the morning?Flap them speedily as the geese pass above? Do your… Continue reading POEM A DAY – March 15
POEM A DAY – March 14
I waited for today’s poem and then it came a fallen treeon the walkingpath
POEM A DAY – March 13
Today's poem is in the form a Lupus Teleform. The form parallels an acrostic, but instead of using a word or name in the vertical position, it uses a number; a student number, telephone number, etc..Then, you can either use the number to create a line with that many syllables...or with that many words. For… Continue reading POEM A DAY – March 13
VANESSA SHIELDS 