Archives
- June 2025
- March 2025
- June 2022
- November 2021
- September 2021
- February 2021
- January 2021
- December 2020
- November 2020
- October 2020
- June 2020
- April 2019
- March 2019
- May 2018
- February 2018
- August 2017
- July 2017
- June 2017
- April 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- July 2016
- May 2016
- January 2016
- November 2015
- September 2015
- June 2015
- May 2015
- April 2015
- October 2014
- June 2014
- May 2014
- April 2014
- March 2014
- February 2014
- January 2014
- December 2013
- November 2013
- October 2013
- September 2013
- August 2013
- July 2013
- June 2013
- May 2013
- April 2013
- March 2013
- February 2013
- January 2013
- December 2012
- November 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- August 2012
- July 2012
- June 2012
- May 2012
- April 2012
-
Join 1,550 other subscribers
Blogroll
Author Archives: Susan L Daniels
the dis-ease of shared humours
We fall into love easy, that prismed insanity with no asylum seen as rainbows arcing cursive a name across April and are lost to some happily ever but it is the after that bleeds– tearing away what’s grown together not with scalpeled cleanness … Continue reading
worrying (bone soup)
If this love is all that’s left, let me gnaw it let me scrape all taste from its bones, if bones it is, and crack them for marrow. I am less committed than hungry, bone sucking. Sucking bone, (more) hungry … Continue reading
cutting
The old physicians knew what we take in must be let out, but slowly, feeding leeches or lancets if ink is blood and language the pulse driving it poetry becomes phlebotomy.
Even As the Winds
Originally posted on The Bard of Liminga:
The eastern sky was vivid scarlet this morning as I started pedaling, head lowered into a strong wind. By the time I rounded the curve at Coles Creek, it had faded to gray,…
Posted in New Free Verse
2 Comments
Tanka #1
What drives this knowing? Poets are people who walk through life with small flaws in cracked armor, allowing life to blossom beneath skin.
building blocks (babble on babel)
Hubris is hard to own in its breaking down to a simplicity of matter, as if cells were stones, small ones, collectively tall enough to threaten heaven and make gods nervous. After falling I stack, borrowed piece by borrowed piece a remembered me, self-made without blueprints. … Continue reading
clarity
It is the snap of daffodils piercing mud they have been under too long sleeping, in the throats of peepers chanting all night their pagan worship suddenly, you know it– that pause happening only inside April, the indrawn breath the gasp from … Continue reading
Susan Daniels Poetry 