Calendar

Painting by Vladimir Kush

 

Misspelling thyme
A fashionable garnish
Though hardly nutritious
To tally the seasons, Read More

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Pro-Choice?

“One Way Direction” by Lucian Olteanu

Isn’t it hypocritical for one to have both pro-choice, ‘my body, my choice’ beliefs and to be a proponent for mandatory vaccinations? Read More

Poetry Challenge: Pentimento

A hidden face in Pablo Picasso’s ‘The Old Guitarist’, 1903-04

Hi everyone, just wanted to invite you all over to dVerse Poets Pub as I am hosting the prompt this evening. We’ll be looking at the pentimento in art and reflecting on a time when we too have changed our minds. You can see that my latest poem, ‘Milk‘ is an example. So write a poem on this topic in any chosen form and link it up by following this link. The prompt will be open until 1pm Rocky Mountain Time, Thursday, February 8. Hope to see you there!

2018, Amaya Engleking

Milk

You mark an X
on your chart. Your plan is just an infant,
a lone, whining cry for a bottle of smeared Milky Way.

-Cathryn Hankla, from poem ‘The Palm Galaxy’

Voice like a tentacle grew out from All
Prosodic light named me to be born
Winced, I already felt shattered
Falling into time and a cut/open womb
I squirmed cold in skin and sinew
Heaven pulsated and recoiled into a distant dot Read More

Ignite

Amaya, 2007

You who have lived many layers of lifetimes overlying just one body. The serious kid who took pride in her father — and her mother, for granted. The college girl with once a head of “dreamy blonde” highlights who spent her restaurant paycheck on $220 Versace sunglasses, a tank of gas, and a bottle of Bordeaux. The fervent penitent who sought God within church walls… Read More

Portrait of a February Morning


I stepped outside onto the back porch to let the dog out first thing and a rush of vitality filled me as the cedar smoke of our neighbors’ chimney and the cold wet in the air stung my bare face. The mountains to the south were already enshrouded in heavy cloud and a few snow flurries met the wafts of smoke-drift. Winter! I need it. What a revival from the malaise of warm, dry January, sickly like overripe fruit in a moist and sealed container. Defying the seasons and the natural order of life cycles like the technological revolution.  Read More

Awash

Photography by Andre Ermolaev

A honed heritage of rebellion and pride
Innate upstream laws by which to abide

I’ve held all my life but the shore is the same
A cadenza my furrowed brow has belied

Incessant whirlpools form calliope echoes
Insanity swirls and draws all I’ve decried Read More

Lay Low

Photography by Peter Lindbergh

“Lay low awhile.”
Din of grungy mahjong slot machines, smoke thick as port-town smog, slurps of Chongqing hot noodle soup
Watery lager, grease stains, and spit riddled the cement floor,
For the right price she could decipher them too —
“Too many eyes on you and this,”
Boss held up her Read More

Waxen

Photography by Charlotte Colbert

All is white these days, the humidifier noise through the night and late January skies, but I’d give my life not to remain a blank slate mirror anymore. Smooth, slippery cold marble surface, not even the Kronos Quartet playing Philip Glass to the much prayed-for snowfall, not even the kids’ laughs or cries, not even my husband saying poetry doesn’t matter can penetrate, or stick, or stain. Albedo one hundred percent. Read More