Tag: metaphor
member name: Lynn Doiron
|
June 04, 2008 05:45 PM EDT --
Hold a finger to your tongue then raise that one
into the air, hold it there, that one,
all its heightened sensors
wetted for approaches:
let them come.
You are ready,
heart on . . .
more
|
|
September 01, 2007 11:34 PM EDT --
I am drowning in years and buttons—grappling with the broken
white threads of dresses, the loosed hems of horizons
. . .
more
|
|
September 01, 2007 12:13 PM EDT --
She naps through November,
a calico feline,
back curved into the bluff
as if in an easy chair, and purrs
the stone riffles of autumn,
her tail a quiet “s” trickle
between hardpan and . . .
more
|
|
August 31, 2007 10:13 AM EDT --
Ironed open and flat, their edges left raw
to fray, they become as spouses, who,
having said I do’s and linked arms, the thread
of one life, half a stitch, the thread of the other
. . .
more
|
|
August 05, 2009 02:49 PM EDT --
The True Life Adventures of Irene in White Tights does not deserve the underline distinction, that long solid line denoting a manuscript has metamorphosed from 8 ½" x 11" letter-scored pages . . .
more
|
|
July 26, 2009 06:00 PM EDT --
I am thinking of an outer room of dusking pinks and live orchid stems with many buds yet bundled, emergent nubs: cymbidums, green, one perfect bloom opened and tenderly lime, the curve of a child’s . . .
more
|
|
December 01, 2007 12:34 PM EST --
For three days I deconstructed
sweaters, saved bone buttons off cardigans
and rolled used yarn into balls, wondering
where the arms went (once they were gone)
and each . . .
more
|
|
January 03, 2008 08:24 PM EST --
Curl it round me,
she tells the sky,
and asks, too, for a horn button,
a hole to run the button through
in this woven shrug phenomena
of air swirling her.
As fledgling . . .
more
|
|
|
|
