Writing
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JuPo #1
Root-ripped, wind-rasped,
branch-cracked on brick,
on concrete, on pipe fence,
by falling foundations, by saws
biting through the aftermath
Categories: Poetry, JuPoWriMo 2006
Persephone’s Prom Date
He’s looking
at the driveway, imagining the way
the limo’s shadow would have fallen
across the sidewalk, how her shoes
would have reflected the street lamp
before they disappeared into the dark.
Categories: Poetry, NaPoWriMo 2007
The Artifact’s Placement
You would have
the blocks rehewn, the colors resplashed, everything flown
to Athens and rebuilt so we could pretend nothing had ever broken,
no one had ever blown the truth to pieces and pillaged it.
Categories: Poetry, NaPoWriMo 2007
The Receptionist’s Safari
She wallows in the minutes of their appointment
like a mud-slicked hippo.
Girthed by months of their lunch meetings
and working dinners, she shoulders aside
his hesitation
Categories: Poetry, NaPoWriMo 2007
Khan’s Grandmother
Where he gone
Where brown ponies galloping
up winter-dead hills gone
Categories: Poetry, NaPoWriMo 2007
The Minotaur’s Daughter
They winched his body on a wagon
like he were some plow beast,
even cut the clothes off his back
like he had no use for ‘em,
like they were tack to be buckled
on some other ox.
Categories: Poetry, NaPoWriMo 2007
The Chess Player’s Wife
She does not play chess
but the board’s varnish gleams
even in clouded winter light.
The scent of wax follows her like perfume.
Categories: Poetry, NaPoWriMo 2007
The Mods Put a Stop to Zephyr’s Antics
Who returns and rants, we think, seeks to scathe.
How can you cut us down, when there’s no sharpness to your wit?
Categories: Poetry, NaPoWriMo 2006, Variations on Martial
PurpleZephyrUnicorn Returns Under an Alias
No one knows what poetry is who calls my pieces
journal entries. Oh, they are epic, those who write
of roosters rutting in the yard or Ariadne wailing
by her brother-beast.
Categories: Poetry, NaPoWriMo 2006, Variations on Martial
The Forum Rolls Its Eyes
Oh, come now, PurpleZephyrUnicorn.
You said Give me the truth, tell it straight,
I can handle anything. We told it right.
We try again: the truth? You don’t listen.
Categories: Poetry, NaPoWriMo 2006, Variations on Martial