Tag: dVerse
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This March Madness: a #writephoto #haibun
Sunlight from an unclouded sky radiates the snow-covered lawns of the neighborhood. This winter that gently bleated in its youth roars in its dotage. Nevertheless, the gates of seasonal change stand ajar, as the vernal equinox approaches. Soon the blossoms will unfold. The botanical gardens will yield their bloom. The morning air will echo with…
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Emergent Compassion: a #TankaProse #TBT (on a Wednesday) #haibun
memorial stone a genesis of ruin in every sip all their raised fists and voices all of my paralysis A night so long ago. Her absolute enabled-tongue lashing you to mindless rage. Her slumped on the stairs, you above her, fists clenched, driving down. I, a boy of twelve, headlocking you off her. You, a…
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First reading in Twenty Years: A #TBT #Haibun featuring my latest from .@ImageCurve
Suffern Poetry hosts an Open Mic in the community room, on the top floor of Suffern’s Village Hall. Rows of chairs, separated by one aisle, lead to the “stage”—an open space at the front of the room, facing the audience. A counter separates the main room from a small kitchenette. Florescent lights in a soft…
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A White Priviledge Witness: a #haibun
Binghamton, 1991. We all sat in a downtown restaurant. A waiter took all of our orders–except for our friend seated at the head of the table. He was the only one among us with a brown complexion. waning moon an “I meant no offense” too little too late The Bronx, 2010s. One of my students,…
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First Kiss: a #quadrille #haibun
Our second date. We walked through the Bear Mountain Zoo and Trailside Museum, stopping outside the Amphibian House. She saw toddlers and smiled. Holding her, I bent my head in. For our first kiss. tulip blossom all of our love after all these years for dVerse Poets’ Quadrille #73: A Prelude to a Kiss (Pubtended by…
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Our first conversation, Lynn
It’s Friday, July 18th. We start to say grace when my phone rings. Without looking, I know it’s you. My dish of penne remains in the microwave as I see your name on the incoming call. You ask about the weather, my writing, and work. I answer what I can. And savor the soft, resigned…
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The Heart of Majesty
Not the tallest. Nor the steepest. But what other mountain so captures the culture of a people? What other embodies a nation? Or inspires so many poets’ tears? cold carp the nevermelting snow atop Mt. Fuji Will I ever see you face to face? for dVerse Poets’ Quadrille #72 (pubtended by Mish). She invites us…
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A Forgotten Sentry
Deep emerald maple leaves blossom on my neighbor’s tree. The trunk—in shadow—looks almost black. It casts little shade over the aging, clubhouse-swing set that my neighbor worked so hard to erect. The one no one has played on in so long. empty backyardleaves flutter in a passingsummer breeze Photo by Yonan Farah first published in Image…
