Poetry Month #8: A Fibonacci Poem by Karen O’Leary


and dwell,
mingling mute,
in the world’s beauty.
The cumulus clouds wave over
the field until the tide changes, and the moon’s light shines.

By Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary is a writer and editor from West Fargo, ND. She has published poetry, short stories, and articles in a variety of venues including, Frogpond, A Hundred Gourds, Haiku Pix, bear creek haiku, Now This: Contemporary Poems of Beginnings, Renewals and Firsts, Creative Inspirations, and cattails. She currently edits an online poetry journal called Whispers, http://whispersinthewind333.blogspot.com/

Poetry Month #5: Cherita by Bill Waters

don’t be mad!
a tentative smile
a shy glance
a tiny golden weed-flower
you offer
between finger and thumb

[Atlas Poetica 27, March 2017]


I was just a kid
I knew a lot less
than I thought I did
about life, and I spurned
love that did not suit me
to my later regret

[Atlas Poetica 27, March 2017]


in the deep of the night
I hear a cat
playing in the hall —
pouncing, pouncing,
and then bouncing down the stairs
a plastic ball

[Atlas Poetica 27, March 2017]


Bill Waters adds–I thought your readers might be interested in the form, which has just gotten a big boost from Atlas Poetica. ai li, the creator of the cherita form, teamed up with editor M. Kei to pull together a large compilation of them.

Fond Farewell to Poetry Month

April isn’t my cruelest month, because it is my birthday month, Poetry Month, and Santa Fe is full of lilacs and…hail, snow, sleet, and rain. All of which are a treat in the desert.

Poetry Month gives me a chance to review–and re-blog–work on Miriam’s Well and this round I was glad to add some new poets too as well as new work by favorite contributors.

The semester is ending, and I’m humming “school’s out forever” because even though it will start again, summer vacation just feels wonderfully endless at its start.

So–what to blog? Some prose, images, news…and yes, always poetry. Planning a cross country trip full of roadside art, food, and a mini residency. SO I hope to report on between here and there–God willing & the creek don’t rise, as my husband Rich says.

What do you want to read? What do you want to write?

Send me something–I’ve got a particular yen for haibun, flash memoir, and musings on identity.


Poetry Month #30: Pow Wow Haiku

We had a very special time at Gathering of Nations yesterday in Albuquerque. Incredible dancing, gorgeous regalia, and unusual crafts from all over the Americas.

The atmosphere manages to be festive, exciting, and down home at the same time. It’s a pleasure to be there even if it is the hard seats of the Pit!

And many tiny intimate moments in the crowd lend themselves to haiku:

pow wow dancer
in feathered headdress
checks his cell phone

hand mirror glace,
the jungle dancer takes
one last stitch


Photo from Wikipedia, which has an unusually informative article.

Poetry Month #29: Taste of Hate by Behzad Dayeny


I tasted hatred once
Placed in my mouth
And I began to chew,
A lot like tough meat
Stringy and chewy
Although, I must admit
It was well seasoned to
A kind of bitter sweet.
As I swallowed it down
Like an energy drink
It got my heart racing
What an invigorating feeling
Felt like I had just received
A big shot of courage
I wallowed in this feeling
Till it worked its way through
Then I began to feel the pain.
Like a bleeding ulcer
It began to cut me to shreds
Making me want to scream.
Since then I’ve been more careful
I have learned to avoid it
I’ve learned to refuse it
Though on countless occasions
It has been offered to me
On a silver platter


This poem is forthcoming in “The Santa Fe Literary Review”–look for it in autumn, 2016

Poetry Month #24: Sandhill Cranes Pantoum by Ursula Moeller

One of the most read poems on the blog–Poetry Month #24

Miriam's Well: Poetry, Land Art, and Beyond

Sandhill Cranes, Bosque del Apache

Orion overhead, nature’s cycles,
our sunrise breath hangs smoking
frozen silhouettes reflect in water
like Japanese painting strokes

our sunrise breath hangs smoking
shrill crane’s ancient honking
like Japanese painting strokes
karoo karoo greets a newborn day

crane’s ancient honking in minor key
night-frost crystals encrust
karoo karoo greets a newborn day
gangly stiff knees bend backwards

night-frost crystals encrust
like mine of a sometime morning
cold stiff knees bend backwards
legs slender as lakeside sedges

sometimes like mine of a morning
limbs barely support feather bustle
legs slender as lakeside sedges
red-capped cranes mate for life

limbs barely support feather bustle
daily quest for winter’s food
red-capped cranes mate for life
coyote lurks behind tamarisk

daily quest for winter’s food
undulating necklace pink at dawn
coyote lurks behind tamarisk
wingbeats whistle, necks extend

crane-necklace undulates, pink at dawn
silhouettes overhead reflect in water

View original post 16 more words

Poetry Month #23: Under The Porch by Dennis Nurske

Dennis Nurske

Under the Porch
Lucky peeled the wings
from a fly
and gave them to me,
as Father once trusted me
with the tiny screws
when he fixed his glasses.
But in my cupped hands
they disappeared.
It was a miracle.
We looked everywhere.
The fly buzzed —
how could it still buzz? —
much louder than before.
At last we reconciled ourselves
and knelt with great compassion
and watched as it moved
in an almost line,
then an almost circle,
there in the crawl space
under the huge brushes
rigid with shellac:
and we were rapt
as if we’d found
the way out of loneliness.


Curated by Elizabeth Jacobson

Poetry Month #19: Three Poems by Audrey Powers-Wiggins

Excerpts from Sami by Audrey Powers-Wiggins

Letter Home

Effects yield to

and old, yet familiar regime.

As fire, water, and the past clings to the humpback whale.
Intuitively, she tries to navigate away from harbor and escapes by kayak only

On the next wave,
she searches for relief by tele-
phoning to a dolphin that has no strength in swimming
or in dealing with a walruses’ need to end her own life.

Malice creates in –organic forms while
ruling forces of fire and water,
give birth to pre-historic mammals
that harkens back to include
neolithic eels that the old times obey.

A strange bearded monster rises up.
It overwhelms the stormy, grey seas.
He maneuvers away from Anchorage
by overturning a bike and canoe,
while the Russians leave by boat with only
Morphine and its purpose
that parents fleeting anguish.

Uniting this with alcohol
and you get an aged,
yet neoteric arthritic release.




Before Her

Movement of a people
from one camp to another
and yet the Japanese are
unable to bomb due
to the spirit of Tagituk.


Remnants of an airplane
lie on the Mayuwaaq,
buried by large rocks
after the Russians
bomb down a U.S. plane.
Intestines of people lay
strewn over the tundra.


The U.S.  Army comes
to bury Hazmat materials.
Fifty years later
signs are posted
stating, “Do Not Pick Greens!”
Fifty years before
Annana’s like ants,
wearing traditional dresses,
carry pots, pans, and snacks
for the days of gathering greens
for the following winters when
there will be no vegetation.


Can you hear the ice coming in?
Can you hear the ice breaking up?


Sugar Shack opens,
where Apa makes pies;
coffee is served
while a grandfather punches out
the postmaster’s dad over the
loss of a Checker’s game.


Apa becomes a U.S. citizen in 1956.
She recounts of a time when
her best friend teases her about
her slip showing.


The grandchildren pull their apa on a sled,
counting the many layers of traditional dresses,
and pulling and pinching her saggy skin.


Girl twins are born,
one dies at birth
and the other at the age of fifteen
(swallowing pills?)


Apa catches the coughing blood disease,
is removed from the village, and sent to
Seattle for sixteen months.
Her father gets another girlfriend
that hits him over the head
with a glass bottle while
blood streams down his face.


A clan-mother shaves the children’s
heads from the lice infestation
that came to remain.

For McCauley Manor


Pinching fingers cut
a bit of meat
from a larger piece
while a green velvet coat
barricades a showing belly.


A mother and daughter
are no kin together
while a daughter in court
sings of all ills
to an old willow.


Endure living with a nun
in a shady convent
while the worth of her virginity
makes bold her modesty
in the cold, fruitless room.


In the glimmering night,
fly from this place
with Sadie
who composes beauty
out of long dandelion chains.