Threefer Senryu

I’m kind of preoccupied at present, so I thought I’d try to combine (and minimize) my response to three of my favorite prompters into a single senryu:

Memory, detached
— murdered under a steel sky —
vanished forever

Go Dog Go Café Tuesday
~ detached memory ~
Tuesday Twiglet #283
~ steel sky ~
Fandango’s One Word Challenge
~ vanish ~


Edit Or

It’s Quadrille Monday again at the dVerse Poets Pub; time to create a 44-word poem.

This week, we’re asked to create a poem using the word “Spell” or some word that incorporates it.

Thanks to Sanaa for hosting and getting us started.


Edit Or

Lissenup, Mister. If ya
think ya can get away
with just a ‘u’ and a ‘r’
n call it You’re or Your
(wid or widout
a postrophe)
then yer nutz
and I pity ya, Cuz,
cuz ya can’t spell
fer shit 
n datsa fact.

dVerse Poets Pub
Quadrille Monday #154
~ Casting A Spell ~


Hopewell To Halifax

I have strolled on the seafloor
at the Bay of Fundy, wandered
among The Hopewell Rocks,
occasionally flattening myself
into their low-tide crevices
like an ancient sailor’s skeleton
watching the tides come and go
to strip and bury the shoreline.

And I’ve seen their murky furrows
vanish and reappear and
vanish and reappear again
so many times
I’ve come to believe that
nothing ever vanishes,
that all things vanished
always reappear and
always reappear again,
always the same
but different.

But today, instead
(but somehow again)
I’m hundreds of miles away
and it’s bumper to bumper
in downtown Halifax,
and I’m waiting behind the bus
on University Avenue,
waiting for the light to change,
for the pedestrians to crosswalk,
for the bus to move
in and out of traffic
like the Bay of Fundy tides
always coming and going,
creating a tidal flow of humanity
appearing and reappearing
but always the same
the same.

Maybe Next Time…

She tensed up and squinted her eyes,
reluctantly opened her thighs;
she rubbed him and squeezed him
and thought she had pleased him
‘til he zipped up & said his goodbyes.

Fandango’s One Word Challenge
~ Tense ~


Only Hello Matters

He hears himself saying goodbye over and over again, and he realizes that the woman he keeps saying goodbye to is a different woman every time; realizes that he’s not the same person saying goodbye. Later on, when he thinks about it again, he understands that you can say goodbye all you want, but that no one ever really goes away and, ultimately, it’s only hello that really matters.

He remembers the first time they met; remembers the bar’s darkness, the bet she lost to a friend just before she approached him, hunched over his Rolling Rock and a shot of Cuervo, and asked him, “Why so glum, chum?” This, he knew immediately, was the first woman he’d ever met that he was sure he’d never say goodbye to.

Now, half a century later, still feeling that same warmth, he kisses her goodnight at night, kisses her good morning every morning, and contemplates the unbearable impossibility of goodbye.

Centuries Later

Survivorship, Rewarded

Far away from home, visiting
foreign genealogical archives,
consulting almost ancient
historical texts and experts,
she comes across dates and
names she already knows:
places of habitation, deeds
for property earned by heroes,
birth records, summonses,
marriage certificates, tax liens,
orders of incarceration,
baptismal confirmations,
divorce decrees, suicide
announcements, endless 
and almost illegible records 
of gifts to the church, loans
from the banks, grants and
purchases of property that
she can still drive through,
even today, satisfied, after
deciphering countless censuses,
lists of unfortunate plague victims,
of miscarriages, of war wounds, 
and of hostility from the natives;
satisfied and glad to be alive
after death list after death list
after death list.

research concluded
her survivorship enhanced
—glad to be alive—

Fandango’s One Word Challenge
~ List ~
Go Dog Go Café
Haibun Wednesday 06.08.22
~ Death ~

FOWC    Haibun

Under The Bridge

I told her that now,
after all these years,
I had a pretty good idea
who the hell she was
but she just stared
and smiled

Tuesday Twiglet #282
~ bleached silence ~




Still unknown and replaceable,
he babbles the last of his being
into the first light of a new day,
lacking an audience and expecting none.
He walks from the end of one sad earth
into the next under an empty sky,
accompanied only by the song of crickets.

Fandango’s One Word Challenge
~ Replaceable ~




Hooray!! Or should I say Moo-Yay?

I’m happy to announce that I’ve received an acceptance / pending publication letter for my short (ie +/- 500 word) fiction But First, A Word From Our Sponsors which will appear in the forthcoming (date to be determined) anthology, entitled “COW” from Pure Slush Books.

I’m greatly honored to be included and thankful to Editor Matt Potter for finding my work worthy of inclusion. Judging from my past experiences with Pure Slush Books, I’m sure it will find itself in excellent company.

I’ll keep you posted about publication date when it arrives.

And speaking of previous experiences, you can read my (11!) previous Pure Slush Anthology pieces


Mea Culpa?


What else can I say?
(I think it’s just genetics)
No harm intended.

Fandango’s One Word Challenge
~ Apology ~