Because of the fear monster infecting this country, Joy Harjo has offered to share this poem, this song.
Time twists around after scientists think they’ve accelerated a particle faster than light (it was a loose wire…)
An old man remembers when time stood still as a bike tipped too far going around a corner and what it was like to fall out to space.
A surreal poem in a minor key, falling out of the world and into the arms of one who lives in dreams.
This fantastic figuration of f-words features consonance oh such consonance in an experimental play of sound(ing) mean(ing).
This hybrid between non-fiction, found poetry, & experimental-performance poetry connects hunger-stress-climate change and war. It hints at a desire for peace, & harmony.
A short imagistic poem about respite from death’s pursuit through briefly glimpsed revelation.
This poem struggles in the middle of the night, wrestling with my 61st birthday and sense of failure. The poem begins:
“You want to sleep—but across the tundra,
or perhaps desert hard scrabble. The time
change lags behind and no one wants to
fund you, not even you.”
Circumstances My eyes shutter closed. Sirens scream because what else could they say? A bomb went off in a bus just up the street from here, down from the ice cream shop, “Whipped Cream.” The kids and I walked out of it about an hour before. No one […]
Poetry Month 2016 | Fragments of Michael Dickel Water Poems (a poem) Flowstone Time (a poem) SNR—Hybrid Word Dance Veiled Lady (a poem) My Brand Here (Hybrid Flash) Rosy Morn | Poem | Essay | Photographs Blue Notes (collage | poem) The BeZine April 2016 — Celebrating Poetry […]
Rosy photographs, rosy poems, and a discussion of poetry—hybrid writing: poem-essay-digital photography.
I stood. I stared. The guard harumphed. But I wanted to touch the light of mystery.
McLuhan was right. My (re)formulation: Noise = Medium = Signal = Message | Signal to Noise Ration(al)(ity) embodies our overloaded information technology society and its marketeering bandits.
What secret stories do stalactites tell? How does history hear geologic memory?
Broken cliffs, crashing water, quiet spirit. Three short poems related to water.
Any passage (metaphorically or literally) contains within it its messengers, its struggles, its need for wrestling.
In the developing neuro-network, gaia, quantum determinism
unfolds into refracted realities, glimmering sparks, momentum
of free will…
Winter window Outside the opportune window one pink head survives above geranium leaves blowing in the winter wind, covered with cold rain dropped from dimmed desire. The basil released its hope in the face of the war— forces of December and January— mere stalks rising above the window box, darkly silhouetted, […]