“untethered”

shelves of faces wheel past our names

we dissolve on blinking glass—

silent exits logged but never traced

by the circuits that once claimed us

our missteps vanish in tangled code,

no pardon queued;

the platform shrugs in empty bits,

leaving apologies half-typed and gone

perhaps erasure spills relief:

we unhook from worn-out errors,

...

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As you may have seen on the News and Features page, I have compiled a selection of fifty poems to mark the second anniversary of Russia's invasion of Ukraine. Some of these poems will be familiar to regular contributors, but a number have not yet featured on the WOL blog.

This is a private print and not available for general sale, but I would be pleased to send a free PDF copy by e-mail to anyb...

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We made a blood oath...

and yet the promise of it dissipated with the conversation I often expected.

As much as I’d love to over-describe, as some might expect me to, the weight of how I feel while concocting the narratives of Univerza, my writings mislead me.

I might say the campfire stories I told, which wrote themselves, are but a light in a pitch forest as I meander away ...

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Know You Better

I know you will be there at the agreed date and time.

I open my screen and there you are;

no excuses, not late, nor disinterested, never vague,

rather switched on, involved, intense, passionate, reflective, attentive.

Called to the stand I find a voice.

You listen quietly as I speak the unspoken.

Kindly, you allow me to continue

neve...

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when the world continued to move,

she was stuck in her life.

she wanted to move on,

but her body felt numb.

she wanted to live,

yet she felt like dying.

she was losing all her hopes,

yet she dint give up.

she was hurting badly,

yet she kept on fighting.

and now when she looks back,

all the pain is long gone,

and there's this smile on her...

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Is it not the beads you count
Is it not that blessing
Is it not your seated position
on the far side of the screen

It’s here I come and spill
twisting myself as rope
endlessly unknotting 
a constant confessional

And through the cracks
behind the mesh
I feel your furtive eyes 
licking my salacious lines

Dear reader
you are my witness
you are my priest

Is it not the way you br...

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I am not Thaaumaturgically Charged

But thaumaturgically challenged

I like his input

no matter he hides from Facebook

Because I understand the need for Privacy.

So I sit in my privvy

Not thinking at all

Hoping that TC

will someday call.

Love to Janet and the others too who make this space worthwhile.

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