Author: Margaret Coombs

I haven’t forgotten my responsibilities to this blog. I grew weary of posting my unrevised poems and thoughts in April. Though my participation in the poem-a-day challenge meant that I wrote numerous poems, which is something to celebrate, posting them on the blog was too public a way to go about it. Even if only…

During April I wrote a small poem or a prose poem or some jumbled thoughts every day, posting them here. I removed most of them from public view–they were raw drafts, with emphasis on raw.

Those arresting moments of light and darkness in my life that mystify and fascinate me– does anyone know for certain that this earth, this time is all we have? Artists and humanists sometimes share concepts they call quantum physics, indicating a universe beyond yet of us. I don’t trust their translation of it, or my…

Esos fueron días hermosos pero no tuve una voz solo tuve el poder de mi cuerpo, mi amor mis besos y mis caricias pero sin voz me sentí vacío un libro sin palabras un mente sin pensamientos una vida sin objetivo eventualmente me fui mis amores y mis amigos mis padres y mis hermanas los…

emergency testevery Saturday at noona screaming sirenmy husband covers his earshow do the trees withstand it?*winter’s sunny dayeleven waxwings flit–a peeping cedar *dinner date with spousetwo mediocre disheshome welcomes us back*our Norway Mapleappears newly bedraggledbald limbs and fresh wounds*please tell me, Maplethe valentine’s balloon foundhanging from your branch–which anonymous loverremoved your bark and pierced you?*if…