Note to Self

A wry note to self; when the words swim before you stop typing, just stop.   Antonia Sara Zenkevitch

The Moon Child

(*trigger warning – depicts a dystopian future) Do not ask where the ancestors are in this great, lonely city, for they are all around. Do not ask where the guardians of this lone child are, for they are with her every step. They go before her and follow after. They raise her up though she…

Thirsty Words

I’d lost words

But with keen intent

Regained them,

In each breath

Paroxysms of purpose

Direct gusts of wind …

The Jade Quill

Life

between

sheets of dreams

knowing none know

where my tides convene

at breaker’s edge, the brow

transformed in the under-toe;

Time, Light and The Artist

…Time is our collaborator and our adversary as artists. Authors bend the passage of time in story arcs, suspense, and romantic timing. Comedians craft the pace of words and motion into jokes. Cinematographers and film directors focus our perceptions with the length of each shot, our mind lingering where the camera points. Painters decide where shadows fall. All art has its own relationship with the ticking clock and the Earth’s rotation around the sun….

The Scent of a Story

I’ve always found one of the best environments for telling stories is around a campfire. For me it is more than the images in the flickering flame; it’s the smell of woodsmoke and that hiss of resistance before the crackle as the fire leaps. Above us is the sight of stars, around us is the…

Measuring Absence; a collaborative poem, join in.

Measuring Absence How do you measure the weight of absence; the void at the gate, in ambit, to wait to become an interval or sequence, a hitch in the air to anticipate, to calculate the mass of an absence …. (What comes next? Can you fill the absence of following verses?)   I have recently…

To All I was Before (poem)

  I often speak of all I was before, Those ghosts carried ever in my casement, Echoing, like the voices of the wars I traversed, yet now I feel displacement, Life in pause, forbidden summits, woods, shores, Shops, parties, pavements, Vanished continents, consonants, confidence, The family, colleagues; friends I see no more; Those ghosts carried…

Indices

I write of lives in indices, Scenes sketched within margins Of halts for breath in sentences, Of freedom in parenthesis In our secret garden,   I write of lives in ink; Hers inscribed in water In quiet apocalypse Others would call order,   I write of lives, Their curve in words At boundary lines To…