Truest of the forms with the two-ton hearts, a little rain won’t kill them.


16: American Sentence for Real Toads



The rain moved just like our momma did when she’d tuck all three of us in.


16: American Sentence for Real Toads

One: Due Season

Here he. He drummed.
A grove, a hammer, a vessel, a night.

Given we. We hung.
A tree, a drought, a want, a mouth.

For you. They beckoned.
A dance, a mist, a spill, a sip.

(for Quickly’s wordlist)

Forecast Says Rain or Moonlight

Feet find an exile path. Hands pluck a life-sized heart of stone from its downy green nest –before last months sheep came– before all this stubble &hay for backyards.

Feet find an exile path. Eyes plead for cloud cover, a strewn sympathy for this dry creek bed, but the sky’s full of itself &chokes on a perpetual wash of its own perfect cup.

Feet find an exile path. Tongues pray for a touch, or maybe a rain to baptize dogs of flesh &fill empty vessels which are vapors (or even less than that) every morning beneath this cloudless composure of poised light.

My Earth for the Daily Post

Low Water Bridge &Mud Creek

It wasn’t a fence we wanted to jump
but a bridge we wanted to ride.
Every man, woman, teen or toddler
in Abilene went down low water
bridge one way or another.
One time, a kid rolled his trike down
&got a spanking from his Grandma
when he got home. Bigger high school
boys tested their skateboarding skills
down low water, pushing aside worries
over washout holes &no helmets.
Another time, a man put his VW bug
in neutral to see if he would come out
on the other side without any juice.
Even I rode down low water almost
every single day on my girl’s bike
with two quarters tucked under
my fingers to pay admission to the
swimming pool on the other side.
I had my terms: I’d pull up hard
on the handlebars, gain enough speed
straight-up pedaling like a devil or else
get off my bike &walk in shame
with one of mom’s bath towels hanging
around my neck. If it didn’t rain, if
low water didn’t get washed out I mean,
I’d pedal to swim in the pool, or else
I’d swim &fish for crawdads right there
in Mud Creek. Either way, Mother Nature
wanted my feet to get wet that summer.

(for Quickly)

Would You Believe

Would you believe yesterday’s rain, and how we first heard it? Bubbling up, then falling down. So unusual, like a reversal. That’s the only reason I mention it. That’s the only reason we shot up in bed before you called it — a sudden shower. Looking out the window you swore it poured wholly for us. So sweet and so stupid, your exclusive supposal, yet not withstanding I came to my knees and lifted my hands to claim it; our secret slice of sky.

Crack the Sky

th-5Heaven pours forth a speech of mercy and kindness, but I don’t receive it.  All I hear are pelts of rain hitting the roof. With another fire to put out at home, I can only mutter and sputter about the inconvenience of this so-called goodly rain. Going the extra mile on a short lunch break peeves me. Even more so that I should get wet. Driving too fast, I deflect exclamation points off the windshield more effectively with the daggers in my eyes than those Quick Lube wipers that need replacing. At home, I push a pair of dry socks into my bag and fling a broken umbrella onto the floor of the car for a quick turnaround. Under a patriotic shield of red, white, and inaugural blue, I sprout disdain for this sudden leaky condition. Returning to room 503, I am aware [just now] of how empty I feel.

I position a coffee mug under a drip in the ceiling.

this old rain bucket ~
i promise to cup my heart
if you crack the sky

Linking up again with Ligo Haibun’s February 7, 2014 with the prompt: Empty

In Broad Daylight


in broad daylight
a rain falls from the sky~
darkness and light

Travel Log: Day 4

It was our lucky day! The sun arose pink as a grapefruit without any hint of sourness, and the Kansas winrainbowd was with me on my run up and down old roller coaster road. The mud turned my shoes to new high heel skates, and when I climbed back along the quarter-mile stretch of Highway 15, a friendly rainbow was there. She said, “There’s no place like home!” and mom pushed her walker into the house. Today was a good day.


Going, Going, Gone

A name patch attached to her shirt collar is our last attempt to save her.

Ambushed by targeted rain, a neurotransmitter rebellion, she washes away.

The tag says “Stella,”

but let’s all remember her as mom.

This weekend, we are revisiting a prompt we’ve done before. We are giving you three words and asking that you add another 33 to them to make a complete 36-word response. You may use the words in any order you choose.

Our three words are: