bathtub

February 4, 2025 /

∴ bathtub whirlpool—
tyrant’s grip, spiraling down
gurgling defeat
banners rise from foamy depths
resistance bubbles back, once more ∴

oak

February 3, 2025 /

∴ roots clutch riven-rocky loam
oak in its gnarled dominion stands
weather-torn and wild
seasons clamor, carve
rings of fire—withering frost
boughs bear the weight of raving gales
limbs unshorn by fleeting gusts
reading winds that never stay
listening, bending, bold ∴

spoon

January 30, 2025 /

∴ joyous crunch—distant
wayward flakes dissolving
milk drips, soft as guilt
ghost-thin on sullen spoon
soggy, sinking
defeated on the bottom—
of this bowl
lost in hunger’s endless maw

give me!
that resounding thunder
freshly poured
unbroken cereal ∴

collar

January 30, 2025 /

∴ sky-treader ronin
exhaling cloud-song
low thunder through misted hills—
didgeridoo drones
undertones swelling, liquefescent
earthen bellows beneath—
bare feet warmed
flares of midnight suns
talks to strangers
shows up alone / a lone—
specter bear, nimbus paws
unraveling right from truth
summoning raven—
collared by new moon’s pull
under yukimi-roof
snow-thaw prints left behind ∴

birthday poem

January 26, 2025 /

∴ unctuous winds drip honey
through the heather and the hills
ripe with umbra
nest their riddles
so many things to love
the world reveals

lock-picked mornings
the galumph of beasts
through frost-fanged trails
where keepsakes sleep
tinctures spill their bittersweet
truths into streams

flush with the applause
hearthsong minstrel-birches
the air turns pulp-soft
fleshed with the weight
of something enormous—
this great turning
this day that ignites
frescoes blaze
on the forest-chapel
of the becoming

let us tumble into its open chest
nesting in its marrow
hoarding the embers
of what burns and what remains ∴

pucker

January 21, 2025 /

∴ frost-cracked soil dreams
loam-grown poems
syllables planting blades
fluid lines furrow and water
seeds buried, flourish in syntax
dods of clod-like soil break open
branches of meaning
gnarled and wild-reaching
tongues that spring, rend, and bind
harrows respire, loosing—
words—sprout—scatter their weight
pucker of earth
dawn-bound, the earth dreams awake ∴

slithy

January 19, 2025 /

∴ slithy minds hissing
schemish plots crack, lurch, and snap
idle, we wont wait
dashliously we strike back
through shifting barrows, we rise ∴

cloak

January 18, 2025 /

∴ yesterday, i dealt cards
from a melancholy trove
a solitaire of almost-ghosts
crafters of nether worlds

today, the board reawakens
the dice roll hollow, bare
i laugh—
tilting bone and ivory
tokins (と金) shift in measured march
stones slip through sifted memories
cloaked, yet still they linger
heart of dust

black and red collide—
but my gambit?
a falchion’s roar
that cleaves the dark—
a reckless wager
severing the rules
splintering the play
a rogue’s ember
ravenous in doubt’s thrall
in this unwritten game
how will we carve our marks
into the eddies of yestermore? ∴

labyrinth 2

January 15, 2025 /

∴ mountains bow, beasties roam
hopes held in trebly crackles
sharing breakfast with wyrms, we
made from music-tangles
star-dust
and mud between toes
chase labyrinth-ways but never lost
sherpa-ed risks upon our backs
no place for battle-bright that divides
only the beauty
of emptying our cups
in this shared fragile gap

(end) ∴

ice

January 13, 2025 /

∴ wan goddess on high
ashen motes crest brittle air
dust brǣðan bare
specters mantel near
hauberks rasp, frost-etched and keen
groves lament their splintered ice
ne quit this chill solace
winds scour the high crag
paring marrow from resolve
winter-bound, we bide ∴

sweet

January 9, 2025 /

∴ drunk on the waves, gasping at the page
my pen, a ravenous shark eating its own fins—
lost in a paddle-less dingy of thoughts
my phrases flopping like fish hopped up on
sea-wrath-brew

anchor away, left indents—
the stanzas squirmed loose as
a spilled a bucket of eels into
tide-pitted pools of froth

then, outside of a gull-stained port pub
the lady with the crooked typewriter grin
spun a yarn that sounded like amber breezes
flowing warm from dream-worn shores
i bought those flotsam—jetsam bits
chewed on them, but they stained my lips
sickly sweet and dripping ink

no pen worth its jib was worded well enough
to take the con of this paper
which mocked me with salty curses
then holding its breath, waiting for yours truly to
splash
o
v
e
r
r
rrrrrr
the bow
∴

globe

January 8, 2025 /

∴ overtweenround and through
mind’s mountains
cedar scents, these trails climb—
a bear’s pace
paws pressing glow-arpeggio
cry rings, crow—dark omen, winged
casting judgment o’er land ‘n thee
wardbells toll, their knell draws nigh

cobble worn with days, guides bare
each footfall spinning spells
wilds cairn and rune, pine’s call divine—
this hitching want, ancestors’ sign
globe spinning underfeets
ascend, no longer lone in kind ∴ 

sun-chaser

January 7, 2025 /

∴ wisting snow-wanderer
whip-bent in the cold, the truth
wrapped in helix sunlight—
gale’s fingers pull at the hearth-throat
igniting my fire-tear spine
dripping swete
by her eunoia ambrosial mead

withered sun-chaser
bramble-drummer in brittle soil
you carry the weight of the twist-tree
the old ember-tale of
shimmer-fingers breaking the gaze—
pushing through this gelid winter’s squall ∴

Harry Lauder's walking stick (Corylus avellana 'Contorta) b&w
Harry Lauder’s walking stick (Corylus avellana ‘Contorta’)—my pre-storm inspiration for the poem, photographed on January 3, ’25. Unfortunately, this tree isn’t nearby, so I haven’t yet had the chance to return and capture an image with the snow covering it.

delight

January 4, 2025 /

∴ we travel in darkness, fierce and lean
kicks that could shatter, fists like steel beams |
a dozen black belts, bodies honed for the fray
training every night, and into the day

we bend, we break, we sweat, we bleed
a collective force, relentless in speed
the city is calling, the clash on the way
but something’s amiss as we move through the day |

a tune in the distance, a familiar sound
a melody catchy, a rhythm profound
and then, in an instant, we’re lost in the air
as Daydream Believer swirls everywhere

each note a punch, each chord a thump
our muscles falter, we feel like we’re chumps
our chi is shattered, our focus undone
by music more lethal than any blow swung

“cheer up, sleepy Jean!” the chorus does ring
and we crumble, defeated, by that earworm’s sting
our power dissolves, our fury is spun
as we sing to the music, too weak to run

now here we are, once macho, now torn
by Daydream Believer, our pride, we mourn
for no matter how strong, no matter how tough
sometimes an old pop song is just too much

delight in the chaos, this unexpected fun
for no battle fought was ever quite won ∴ 

turning

January 3, 2025 /

∴ turning the lights off
stars come out for their big show—
meteors take center stage ∴1

  1. Although this doesn’t follow the traditional syllable structure in English or the moraic structure in Japanese haiku (I tried to translate it but couldn’t quite get it right), I would argue that this is more akin to a modern haiku in capturing a moment. More importantly, the Quadrantids peak tonight! ↩︎

fresh

January 3, 2025 /

∴ stoned on bulwarks high
dolent champions fray frost
wind fresh oblations
patched renewals rasp alert
húskarlar feasts, cycles turn ∴

schism

December 29, 2024 /

∴ schism erupts with cries—
fire extinguished, yet ash
coils its ghost through our lungs
venom sweet as nectar
venus fly traps snap shut
satiated by frail scapegoats
seeking reprieve from the jaws
of their own decorum

not all fires are meant to save
peace is no offering, no altar flame
left to smolder in the without
but a strike of flint within
a stubborn spark
refusing
to dim ∴

act

December 27, 2024 /

∴ act of silence, heartstrings taut
·
a clean face, years shed, time caught ∴1

  1. shaved my beard off after dinner last night. according to my daughter, this was the third time— she wasn’t ready for the jump scare, but it was comforting that she didn’t cry like when she was 2 🤪 ↩︎

rift

December 25, 2024 /

∴ foxfire secrets wend
through silver scars, swift and sly—
feral trails carve dusk’s rift
opalescent-pacts ignite faint marks
gleaming ichor spills
tracing hymns on twilight flowers
to starry haze
where moonlit hills rage
and dark cairns crown the storm ∴

revels in the loom

December 21, 2024 /

∴ we be of
battered seed, tattered thread,
gallyhooing with the Púca ahead
mayhap he too was bound, as we,
were you there? did you see?
guffaws spilled at the threshold’s edge,
etched with heart-warmth, too bright to hedge |
mirth’s spell calls again,
and this time-thing it tapers,
focus we must on—
rumbustious capers

we bounce ‘twixt strata-light,
wriggling, winging, and now out of sight
well, never quite gone, these whimsies they stay, |
uncertain, perhaps, yet they illume the way

cosmic stars throb and beat in our veins,
scattered joys—they burn with hot blue flame |
minds full of spice,
ground for tankards of nogs—
thought-quenching delight,
poured for the voracious, we ‘wolves’,
splashed in the winds, where madness resumes, |
now replant these seeds, now rethread this loom ∴

the roar and the calm

December 19, 2024 /

∴ sewn between dusk and dawn
wings stitched by threaded wind—
the call of darkened flanks
half-lost soaring toward blackness—
our star-ward pulses quickening

through the fading
gathering of fragments—
drift of memories
hoarded in the borough of foxes
carved from stone and myth
into our palms, trembling
with the weight of what is forever ours
to fully bear and to share
in the momentary flash

air sharpens
as a croon of time bends
across the slopes, summits
out from the cradle of this place,
we are both the roar and the calm ∴

sound

December 17, 2024 /

∴ sound skips through the moonlit night ∴

∴ echoes stretch, bending the dark ∴1

  1. 7-syllable sentence prompts are provided by Gabe Valentine. He and other participants often respond with 7-syllable sentences, letting poetic thoughts flow naturally from one idea to the next. This is one of my responses from today that stuck with me. I wrote it after reading Lucia Peppina‘s:

    ‘Listen close for silent #sounds
    It’s what you hear in the void.’ ↩︎

quick quill- in 10 rounds

December 17, 2024 /

∴ seeds spill downwind
tumble toward unlit soil—
roots twist into light ∴1

∴ peaks pierce the gray fog
silent altars carved by time
snow clings to old prayers ∴2   

∴ a thief of darkness
the sun slips through jagged teeth
its amber veil torn ∴3 

∴ scorching sighs melt stone
earth writhes under fiery tongues—
air sears, thick as flame ∴4 

∴ one stumble’s ascent—
missteps weave a bridge of fire
falling teaches flight ∴5   

∴ salt ghosts ride the prow
the sea sings of what’s been lost—
horizons devour ∴6 

∴ wax tears gild his fall
a hymn of broken feathers
sinks into the sun ∴7 

Oversized Art Print featuring the painting Abstract Art Original Whimsical Modern Landscape Painting BURSTING FORTH by MADART by Megan Aroon
Bursting Fourth by Megan Aroon

∴ fractured winter blues  
branches sprout otherworlds  
kaleidoscope views ∴8 

∴ plop—slush kissing stone
ice crackles brittle exhales
spirits hiss through mist ∴9 

∴ smooth songs soothe
silver streams swirl shadows’ scars—
she softly sets sails ∴10

  1. metaphor—life ↩︎
  2. imagery—mountain ↩︎
  3. personification—sun ↩︎
  4. hyperbole—heat/hot ↩︎
  5. paradox—fail/succeed ↩︎
  6. wildcard—bon voyage ↩︎
  7. allusion—Greek mythology ↩︎
  8. image interpretation ↩︎
  9. onomatopoeia—plop ↩︎
  10. alliteration—smooth ↩︎

pyres to guide us

December 11, 2024 /

∴ where the grey whispers begin
the gingko trees tremble
a stillness slips through grasping branches |
moth wings flickering against blackened shungite |

zephyrs, pungent
brushing through thought-glyphs
tarnished by taipan’s touch
their story-breath stalled, yet marking time |
for the weight of a hand to move them |
the air, fragrant with salt—
fresh with illumination
drawn from the ember-core within us |

trees, now firm
their boughs speak of resilience—
reminders that the will oak bears its gravity |
and the thread weave waits to reveal itself |

walk.
through the thicket unfettered
the earth beneath, rich with discourse |
its root keeper strong, bronzed and deep |
holding steadfast where answers sleep |

this is not inaction—
nor absence, but a promise of more
stand, travelers
wait—not in vain—
for something to fracture this hold

when it comes
dawn spells will break the sky, wide
in the yet-to-be
this hush veil is ours to step through—
(alone if i must)
but never without the pyres to guide us ∴

henbit and firelight

December 10, 2024 /

∴ the ground spoke gruffly
crunching like old bones
under our boots

a crow carved shapes into the thinning light
its wings riddled archaic
heavy with lore

over your shoulder you glanced back at me
sky, dulled with memory,
settled into quiet agreement
now weathered in rain

at the edge of the wood
no longer could we wait for the moment to ignite
borrowed your fire,
kindling my mischief
into the silence
that sparked us something untamed

and in that breath
we woke once more, all henbit and purple-lit eyes—
burning bright
against the snow ∴

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