10 April Saturday poetry prompt: repeatable — I dream that I have burning hair Boiled arms that claw the air The torso of an iron king And on my back a broken wing~ from The Shrouded Stranger, Allen Ginsberg New York 1949–1951 I dream that you are two again soft on my lap beg for a swim The slide…

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 …

A love language poem — Slip. Slide collide as your syntax conjugates the hairpin verbs untangling every frenzied fold of my mind every nook every cranny affirm with words firm my love language lies beneath my skin. Sip. Swallow my waist with your hands so immense your fingers like piano keys Tip Tap play my…

03 April 2021 Saturday Poetry Prompt: say that again? — once he summoned the nerve to square-up and declare himself, upon opening his mouth, cloudy cat’s-eye marbles and blue morpho butterflies spilled from his pressed lips- Barry Dawson IV “Tasty Quid Pro Quo” Spilling from his pressed lips Malbec lingering on his palette grazing her soft skin lingua like butterflies tickling her muse fluttering…

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. …