The Twenties

This decade we return to
The roaring twenties —
Back then there were plenty
Of threats, just no one knew
About them yet.

I wonder if these twenties
Will be roaring —
When it seems more likely
That I, for one, might be
Cowering and whimpering.

DVerse’s quadrille prompt is “roar” this week. I’m kind of scared for the future….

Beginning Again

I’m a little behind on prompts, so this poem is for Frank’s haikai challenge about the Wolf Moon, DVerse’s haibun Monday about beginnings, and JusJoJan day 7, “mix.”

At the beginning of this year, I think of the last — a mixture of joyous and difficult, heavy on the bitterness — and I get nervous. Emotions cannot void the truth: that I got through 2019 (someone even told me I was thriving), and the same can be for 2020. Memories of sadness stick a little better, but count the stars of happy moments — if you are able to number them.

January moon
After fullness starts anew —
Stellar companions


All Aglow

This week’s quadrille prompt is the word “glow.”

Backdrop is the unlit room
On this chilly winter night:
Christmas tree is all aglow
With ornaments reflecting lights
And memories to give delight,
Despite some tastes of bittersweet.
See also branches, candy canes
Hanging from evergreen pines.
Regard the sweetness this season finds.

close up of christmas decorations hanging on tree
Photo by Miesha Moriniere on

When the Past Echoes

There seems to be

No organization —

Yesterday is today

Tomorrow is last week

(Tomorrow is bleak) —

Fifty years from now

Is a second ago,

And three years

Three hundred fifty-

Nine days ago


That was is yesterday.

I hope this fits the prompt well enough for DVerse Poetics: Echo.


DVerse Prosery #7

This is the first time I am posting for DVerse Prosery. We are to write a piece of flash-fiction that includes a line from a poem. This week’s poem is “Cow” by Jim Harrison, and the line is “A cow is screaming across the arroyo.” Please tell me what you think, since this might get very strange. Have fun!


“the centre cannot hold;…
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?”

— W.B. Yeats, “The Second Coming”

The earth and heavens have flipped: A fish is floating in the sky. A deluge drives down from the dark clouds, evaporating before it hits the cracked aridity of desert ground. A dehydrated cow fears being dried into jerky, and searching fearfully and futilely, is screaming across the arroyo, while it jumps over the crater-covered moon.

The sun and moon are in a desert dance, as earth and sky are battling. They must find a way to meet in the middle, yet it is impossible. Soon all fish will be floating, clouds will vanish, and all arroyos will be silent and dry.