poem three: junk mail

you receive the words, rehearsed
robotic & well programmed
repeat for effect, for reactions –
the combination of ones & zeroes
tilt-shifted, creates kaleidoscope
gratitude, blurred sympathy.


I’m behind, because I’ve been a busy editor bunny, working on Slim Volume: Wherever You Roam.
this is based on the day three poem-a-day prompt, ‘machine’.


poem two: storytelling

parts of me filter
into parts of you, dissolve
into the stories. you tell stories
I don’t want to hear
for the sake of becoming
& the lemon juice truth burns
my lips when we kiss, creeps over
a year, cuts a ravine
between our bodies. then

I crack a joke through a cloud
of your smoke. I could
never, ever hate you –
not even the secret you
in the half-lies, because
he’s still the you who
nests in untold myth:
when you’re Pothos in my arms
when I’m Blodeuwedd in your eyes.


today’s poem followed the poem-a-day prompt, ‘secret’.

poem one: if wishes were

if only the ghost-tread
of tyres on the road
possessed awareness
of the process
behind burning rubber
& if only the truth
had a bouncing soul
like my best pair of boots,
steady in the onslaught
[oh, you pretty things]
& if only I could be the pavement
soaking up the rain, head
too hard for hailstones
& if only we understood
the bitter-dust magic when we
daily turn gold back to straw.


this is the result of following the poem-a-day prompt, ‘resistance’.