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Jul. 7th, 2013

Heart-Hand

Walking the Daily Poem Writing Road Again

For no conscious reason, I restarted my daily poetry writing challenge on May 12th. I've written fifty-six daily poems since then. I've no goal this time, other than trying to write something that doesn't qualify as junk. (My three hundred and sixty-six poems last year included more than a handful of filler pieces.) I'm not sure how long this challenge will last, but it's felt productive so far.
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Jul. 6th, 2013

Heart-Hand

My Poetry

If you read my poems posted here or would like to read them, please let me know in a comment below. I will keep you in my poetry readers friends group or add you to the group. Thank you!
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Jun. 10th, 2013

Heart-Hand

Dark Wyrms

Dark Wyrms

The rhythm of alien
music transmitted via dark
energy wyrm throats
is lost on SETI arrays--
no subscription,
no music to end
the solitude.

----
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May. 25th, 2013

Heart-Hand

The Effect of the Moon's Regard

The Effect of the Moon's Regard

The breath of the moon on my eyelids sends me across a plane of dust beneath starred space--the scene's serenity marred only by my gasps.

----

May. 22nd, 2013

Heart-Hand

Hounds and Horns

Hounds and Horns

Sinuous black boots
and scalpel cheek bones
distract libido-lulled,
fame-fanned men
from their targets'
long-range defenses:
words of the Wild Hunt
in poems, in stories
coursing through the ether;
the harassers stumble
at the sight of hounds,
at the sound of horns.

----
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May. 21st, 2013

Heart-Hand

Drums

Drums

Three hours of sleep
& still I sit to write

Fool of a poet
I drop a stone down the well

No splash no clack
just drums drums in my dreams

----
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Apr. 12th, 2013

Heart-Hand

Words of Light and Shadow

Words of Light and Shadow

Words of light
float in my heart,
bubble up,
then pop, fade.

Sometimes I catch
the words' shadows
in my poems--
dark murmurs shared.

----

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

Feb. 8th, 2013

Heart-Hand

Tagging Death: a Poem Beginning with a Line by Heather Christle

Tagging Death: a Poem Beginning with a Line by Heather Christle

I know that death is a tower
standing in the middle of the town.

I could walk past its looming silence
with my head bowed, eyes averted,

but, instead, I wave a cheery hello,
paint a scrawl of bright yellow poetry

on its deepest-darkest-night walls,
on my way to work, to play, to rest;

for what's the point of avoiding
the inevitability of finality,

when you can use its existence,
its presence, metaphorical or literal,

to stay focused on living life
with as much intensity and passion

as you can while you still can?
My one-sided game of tag will

end someday, perhaps tomorrow.
Then again (Tag! You're it!), perhaps not.

----
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Dec. 31st, 2012

Heart-Hand

A Song of Farewell

A Song of Farewell

I stand in the falling mist
of a morning winter rain,
eyes closed, arms uplifted,
clothed in a year of words.

I sense the darkness of the sky,
the clouds stealthy-stepped
all about me, murmuring cold
dreams in my numbed ears.

I sense the drought-wan grass
beneath my bare feet drink
in desperation, even as it fights
the long sleep of winter's call.

I sense the word-heat in my hands,
escape and sink into the drops
of water in the air, on the ground,
as I breathe in slow and deep breaths.

I stand in the falling mist
of a morning winter rain,
and I sing the year, my muse,
my word-wrappings a farewell.

----

Dec. 30th, 2012

Heart-Hand

Tomorrow a Project Ends; The Next Day a Project Begins

So, tomorrow I'll post my final, daily poem of the year: my 366th. (If I hadn't picked a leap year for my writing challenge, I'd be done now.) The day after that I plan to work with an established poet/teacher to prepare a book manuscript of my poetry. The new project will involve a lot of revising and pondering how poems work (and don't work) together in book format. It should be interesting.

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