Sunday Almanac (2020 NaPoWriMo #26)

Twirling, light

Geranium watching
From the jutting bay window

Handwashing, again
Humans, turtles, tuna
Pond drowning, again

Chelata can crushed
Next to chopsticks
V + M hearted on an Aspen.

Don Juan and
Windmills
Formal lace
Bedecked Junior high gym

Outside your window, you find:
Today’s news headline:
Scrap from a letter:
Animal from a myth:
Story read to children at night:
You walk three minutes down an alley and you find:
You walk to the border and hear:
What you fear:
Picture on your city’s postcard:

Give One’s Tongue to the Cat (2020 NaPoWriMo #22)

The French much have told me to give my tongue to the cat, this prompt was so hard.

But I have long teeth. No hair in my hand. I do things with all ten of my fingers.

I’ll cut the great in two before I start running circles in the semolina.

It’s all Greek (or French) to me anyway. Before I have one foot in the grave, or smell of fir, I’d better bow out of this race.

Maybe I have, after all, given my tongue to the cat.

Quarantine Archive (2020 NaPoWriMo #19)

Matilda Snow Fun

My “walking archive” specimen tray held time.
Held fragility.
Held change.
Held life.

In the moments after I scooped
snow, it
became slush,
became water.

If I wait long enough the tray
will dry leaving a
ring of sediment:
ghostly evidence.

All I want is to hold
snow that
remains snow:
freeze time.

Rest (2020 NaPoWriMo #18)

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I like to cluster
my small pleasures.
Dog face mashed
on my leg.

Cup of tea.

Knit one, purl one, x 6
Cable, knit one, purl one x6
Knit one, Purl one, x 6
Cable, Knit one, Purl one x 6.

Jamie takes Claire’s hand,
leading her through the wilds.
My mind stilled,
mashed for the moment.

Rest.