Category Archives: writing poetry

Am writing

#‎amwriting‬ when work is so intense I sometimes forget to breathe even though I’m listening to natural sounds like waves and rain wind and birds and a break from almost not breathing is advisable. #‎amwriting‬ when courage waves at me … Continue reading

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Water-centaur

In the Playa Azul video,
there’s a shot-sequence of grey and blue
sea
cloud,
with mountains erupting across a bay
at low tide.
A man, a little left of center, is wading… Continue reading

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One

  One mistake, touching my joyful cloth, bleeds texture, its darkness.     One leaf, curling under the snowy wind, flashes color, its fire.         share?

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The edge of a leaf

You touch me and stay like an autumn leaf on rain-wet stone, elemental, separate, subdued, same in beauty of this season. You touch me. I stay like an autumn leaf on rain-wet stone. (2007, rev. 2014) share?

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Portulaca too

Sere earth tiny seeds next season’s beauty share?

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Portulaca

Sere earth, tiny seeds. Economical green. Fireworks of color on delicate petal membranes, visits from bees and breezes. A soft quick death, withdrawal, ripening and, with one touch of a fingertip at the right moment, an explosive burst. Tiny seeds, … Continue reading

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Ferment

Your love, without relief of occasional plosive hi-howya-doin’s, without punctuation of kisses or hugs, feels like a maelstrom. Its whirling me, its force in ferment, takes me to uneasy places, when I’d rather be by you simply listening to your … Continue reading

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Warmth

Drifting snow piles up on east-facing window screens north wind breaks it down   Wrapped in cashmere memories sliding down cool as fresh snow share?

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Soft basket

A basket slung over my shoulder by leather straps, its belly shaped like a plum, wove of three kinds of grass — thick-striped — holds a stone, a shadow-self that comes and goes, places where I touch the ground, a … Continue reading

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The cut

…on / my cloud-shadowed palm, / a cut, / still bloodied, / where my falcon’s / taloned foot / grazed my hand… Continue reading

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Simple

I’m blots of ink, a line or two, a supergirl you draw from inner sight. Now split the paper with your pen to find my comic heart. © 6 Jan 2009, Heather Quinn, all rights reserved; edited 5 Jan 2012, … Continue reading

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By way of the northern sky (edit 1, in work)

In the light that enters morning by way of the northern sky, a Swede encloses a Finn in his arms, absorbing her darkness, softening with his smooth brow the recurve tension on her lips, ignoring that she took him for … Continue reading

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Blue eyes

Rain-streaked bricks, pepper-green trees, and the sky — thick as oatmeal, and gray as a city cat — welcome a procession of Nanas, walking slow, humming descants, dressed in wraps of blue — turquoise, aquamarine, and harbor — stirring up … Continue reading

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In this quiet place, revisited

In Paradise, where extreme variation may not be, where comfort is constant, would the slowness of unfolding of leaves and blossoms feel like snow? Would a bird’s song sound like thunder? In this quiet place where all I wanted was … Continue reading

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Late winter #tweetpoems

February flings rain out into the cold, then curves its infant hands to catch the earth’s perfumes. (24 Feb 2012) Others’ hands, keeping my tempo, try to rinse away my voice, then hang what remains out in the wind, like … Continue reading

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Takes on Google+

As wild as the sea, with a home onshore, always, that’s most safe & well-built. Like loving someone so much that saying so is almost a sin. Like sledding in fresh snow. Like feeding handfuls of grass to a foal. … Continue reading

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Clouds, like Toledo

Riding south, across the river, a mile below the Bridge, see? A tower and forested hills, with leaves glowing in nooks in the bare, smoky trees, as if someone’s been shooting paintballs there, and the wind shearing the earth to … Continue reading

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Travel, recalled

The morning we arrived, pepper exploded in scrambled eggs made, by Dad, with butter, pipe-smoke and an absence of everyone else.    share?

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Prescriptive

If happiness is honey, tickly-thick enough to make you choke, if happiness is wine, a smooth swallow and a short-lived high, if you’re defended against joy,     share?

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The value of dissolution, part 2

Chhoti Bahu, she of the biggest eyes and motion most honey-like, begs you to stay. Here is she: bound by your space, still at your whimsy,    share?

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