Shanna's #20

Hiatus, or
run for it

but do it soon.

A trickle list.
A tenderness of intention.
A soft little way.

Jacked up
or not, the difference
inimitable & kinda sad.

A concrete something
like a lead pipe.
To contrast with another vision,
a treetop full of wind.

A day late and a dollar short, but I'm making it up on the ponies, says Danielle

On the Bearskin Rug in Front of the Fire I Construct the Following Tableau:

Trust moonflowers to stick it to you, the tiny dogs return. Their entrance, poof. They’re mouthing crowns, togas, they’re yipping Paris, you precious, Woody, you moron. Never in the splinter womb start a fire you can’t suck out. They suckle. Narrate: Colostrum from the goose, in which to cook the gander.

Jen's #30...2 days late

Gobi Told the Broccoli

move...I can't see

Hey, we've got another new poem...

Shanna's #20-30...

...will continue to appear hear as they are completed, just for thoroughness.

I've been sick all week, unable to muster the final sprint I needed, alas. But even 20 in 30 days ain't bad, considering all the travel and craziness of this particular April! Even if I won't keep most of them. (That's normal.)

Maureen asks fellow players what, if anything, you noticed about your writing during the experiment? (And her "leaves & feelings" poems were lovely, by the way!)

Jen's #29

[Vanishes...]

Jen's #28

[A poem were here...but I ated it]