Deep loam callshumid ‘neath the firsand soaring cedarscreating a dark canopy of motionagainst the leaden sky. Deep loam callssilent size 4 footfallsbetween the swaying fernsand hoary beards of ancient giantswatching children play. Deep loam callsnarrow deer tracksovergrown green carpetssoft like feathers – the perfect bedfor childhood daydreams. ml’23 When you
Month: July 2023
Poetry
Temporary Beauty
I plucked a rose oncefrom a gardenwithout permissionslicing it quicklyfrom the stemwith my jacknifeand carried it all dayin my pocketslipping it outfrom time to timeto smell the summer tanguntil at days endit lay wiltedmaroon blotchedin my handand i lost interest ml’00
Words Worth
What The Heck is Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia?
Ahh phobias, wonderful things that stop you dead in your tracks without warning, like that spider hanging from the ceiling in the root cellar or a loud noise in the night you are sure is a monster under your bed. VeryWellMind has an excellent grasp on phobias, as well as
Poetry
Lightkeeper
Dirty sock – hanginglifeless from the hamper rail,redolent of touch footballon the lawn,or perhaps the lazinessof an 11 year old boy,scrabbling in the emptyrecess of the second drawer. Greasy dishes – strewnlike the victims of a trainwreck,no survivors,just the odd fry stuck spearlikein congealed Heinz,that called too soft for 911,now
Words Worth
Ceraunophile
Feel the electric, ions charged,swooping down, bending trees,whole,it roars in my ears. I stand, feet planted,and wait for the tiger,to lick my face,in the dark. Hands touch, silent static,burning, unspoken heat,shadowed dark in the light,that flashes. Feel the electric ozone passion,chest hairs on end, breathing deep,I can feel the shingles,between
Words Worth
Psithurism
Who doesn’t love the gentle sound of wind in the trees or the rustling of leaves? I grew up on an Island, in what is known as a temperate rainforest. My house nestled in a clearing directly above high tide with the expanse of Douglas Firs and Western Red Cedars