I want to write like Dali painted
disjointed
everything capable
of fluidity whether a horse
or time
or an elephant and rhino on stilts
elongate the llllllls
create more holes in the OOOOOOs
put a whole world inside just one
put a landscape on the table
a seascape in knees
find paragraphs
that grow trees
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dVerse prompt on surrealism
It is late and I am going to bed. There is a scratching sound then it stops. Could it be a bug or a mouse trying to get out of this basket? I shake the basket. No sound. The sound comes again. I look around and there it is. A gecko is half in and half out of my writing book. It has clawed its way out of the pages of paper. Bright green with little eyes, tail and hind legs still in the book. I carry the book outside and free it like a poem into the night air.
a little satire comparing kudzu to racism
It’s called the front porch vine
grows over everything
makes for comfort with its shade
easy to propagate when you get tools
roots are huge and spreading
deep rotted
hard to pull out
just when you think you’re rid of it
here it is again
it can bring folks together
like a festival
a klan or a government
some use it for their own advantage
cultivate it
profit from its invasiveness
stir it in a drink
feels warm and good
when drinking kudzu tea
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dVerse prompt on an invasive plant— this was a prose poem which I reformatted into short Plath lines
When the earth quakes, it could take half of a day to hear the news that people are buried in rubble of collapsed buildings. Others are more fortunate and come out at 4am trying to escape the 35 seconds of earth plates moving. Expecting more to follow, they wait in the streets of Tirana.
Back home we wait for the big one. Engineer stronger buildings, take down viaducts and go underground. The last one swayed trees and road as I drove towards Gazzam Lake. An hour later, the water in a huge tank off the trail was still sloshing.
somewhere a rogue wave
or volcanic eruption
thankful not today
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a haibun following the Albanian earthquake
you thought it was whole
now there is a space
that can’t be filled or glued
you don’t know how it got there
it has left you trembling
you puzzle over
how such a perfect thing
has now a crack
because you smoked it
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dVerse prompt to write a quadrille using the word “crack”. Felt like this prompt opened up to a look at addiction.
black time
night time
demons come out time
it is the hour
when darkness reigns
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dVerse prompt using the word black and after seeing a bottle of Witching Hour wine
sitting on the kitchen counter.
Sweet smell of Africa
clings to my nostrils
it is in my bag
open it
my clothes unfold
a memory of singing
and dancing
under the night sky
fabric swirls
keeps the air
in its weave
releases
smells
of Ghana
Cote de Ivoire
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dVerse prompt to write a quadrille and use the word keep
wordshophop 