stripped down now,she adorns herself with winteran invisible layer exposed by absencea rough coat of ragged barkand spindled stickswith a scarf of last summer’s decay little birds hop at her shoulderswhile squirrels dig at her feetthe hoard of autumn now silentthe revelry of abundanceput away but also strewn about everything suggests the whiff of iceeverythingContinue reading “Earth”
Author Archives: amyjasek
Shadow
my shadow is tallshe can reach all the glasseson the top shelf she fills them to the brimwith strong cocktailsbecause alcohol doesn’tbother her stomach,and neither does anyquantity or combination of food she drives fastand says “f*ck it”more than I do, becausethat field of hers really is barrenand she lords over ita lanky scarecrow inbright redContinue reading “Shadow”
Skin
. . . . so many maps
and destinations
burgeoning, just beneath the skin
Notice — Pact
Reposting from my daughter’s blog! The writer’s journey continues. . . . So I’m back, and as you may have noticed I did NOT overhaul the website like I said I would over the holidays. Instead, I decided “hey, wouldn’t it be a great idea if I rewrote the entire thing in a completely differentContinue reading “Notice — Pact”
After the Front
After midnight the storm’s breathcame fast and fierce betweenthe houses, snuffingtrees and patio furniturelike errant candlesit gripped the stars and stripeslike a sail, unmooringour flagship with a single blowso it drifted into thedepths of the gardenfences folded like ahouse of cards, harkeningto the maelstrom’s beguiling whistle But you would never knowit now – if itContinue reading “After the Front”
Breath
The wind will shift from south to north again
as the earth tilts her way along the year
and my breath will enter the tapestry
as I weave my own way along, in time.
Morning Song
This morning a song is happening. . . .
Scrutiny, 2
ridiculous: the difference
from aquatic birth to
solid earth, so far north
to deepest south
espresso sings: hand to mouth
Scrutiny, 1
Floating in my cup of tea:
the bric-a-brac chunk leftovers
from the small scoop of flavorful dust
I stirred in, along with honey. . . .
I Am
. . . . realize that I am late. I am going to need more time, at least a week. After that, I will be back and set it all right.”. . . .
The Poetry Patio 