Who Drives You to the Page Prompt: the master Cohen — I almost went to bed without remembering the four white violets I put in the button-hole of your green sweater ~Leonard Cohen, from "The Spicebox of Earth" Love letters trumpeting bouquets spinning white satin nights from violets weaving through the threads of early love like a web — lucid with…

Into the Image: August Poetry Prompt — To sleep — perchance to dream* in color like the technicolor Joseph secretly swishing synonyms from figuratively speaking lips fluttering in — stealthily, telepathically through the window, an open crevice of his psyche as he slumbers — her night has just begun — or has it? his muse has a…

Pierce my loins with your stare — undress me first with your eyes gaze at my bared soul with your intent drill into the labyrinths of my cerebrum deconstruct the lyrics of my whimsy serenade every curve pierce my loins with your stare full throttle through my amber flickering eyes a window disrobing my soul ~ graze…

Into the Image: August Poetry Prompt — The Reaper is coming making haste amid the greening, the browning, the oranging of leaves like an eagle etching — with keen claws jet charcoal branches that skip, swing among sapphire raining clouds through the obsidian sky — these skeletal illusions dream in color against deafening winds, westward and warbling …

Pictures of Pain: Thursday Hybrid Prompt — A winding river — a properly piercing puncture twining in arching out of viral veins — unvanquished — and now that you are forever ripped from my flesh playing pinball with boulders showering gravelly illusions in bristling dreams may your blood meander in and out of my veins languidly dripping…

Prompt response: the hybrid erotic — Galloping bareback — blood pulsing, steamy amid the undulation — a parabola of shapes sketching my ecstasy with swirly strokes, rough strokes — Oh, oh the slowness the oscillation mounting — meticulous lubricous, grating side to side — an all-consuming pressure— sparks creeping onto skin anew — pores an aperture…

How have words written you? — June’s Prose Poem Prompt — There is no Frigate like a Book To take us Lands away Nor any Coursers like a Page Of prancing Poetry — This Traverse may the poorest take Without oppress of Toll — How frugal is the Chariot That bears the Human Soul — Emily Dickinson My muse has scurried…

that G-spot — And the stage director said Let there be light and Hail to the Queen there it was a spotlight to that G-spot tethered pulsating to stage left entering stage right luminous skin silken pores glisten pried wide open eyes shut mouth agape tearing. gasping tongue spiraling spitting. …