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“I wonder how they do it" he says
Do what?
He keeps looking up at them,
moving like a black flag through the sky
“Do you think there’s a leader?
Do you think one of them says ‘All right, time to go now, by’s’
‘turn left … turn right! Look out below’?”

I wonder, too
if there is a leader
or if each starling even knows he is one, and not the all
If each knows he is separate
and not a part of the black flag that swoops and turns and dives and rests

How wondrous to be such a part of something
unaware of your own small heart beating inside
moving and knowing
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Trying to think of gift ideas for the book lovers and poetry lovers? I'm pleased to say that "Who Will Love the Crow" is on sale for an incredible reduced price of $3!
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I Dreamed a Shore

I dreamed a shore
where the waves did not go out
the waves did not come in

crests frozen white

sand beneath captured in chaos
not asking to be swept up
not asking to be brought home
or brought anywhere

eternal and hidden
not having known the difference between the surface and the deep
the surface and the darkness
dancing in the infinite tide that has ceased

pressed upon by the will of the Moon
released in a havoc not understood

and the waves return to where they were first conceived
when I believed
that the tide would rock me gently
and keep the promise of that first rhythm

Coming to me
Leaving from me
Coming to me

#tumbledownpoetry  Excerpt from Who Will Love the Crow, 2016, Winter Goose Publishing
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I have been published in two books recently. This one is called Sunday Snaps The Stories ands I really like the description:

This colourful and quirky collection contains short stories, flash fiction, vignettes and poetry of various styles and genres. It developed over the course of 52 weeks in 2010/2011 whereby a series of ‘Sunday Snaps’ were posted online as a creative writing exercise. Writers were invited to use the snapshots as inspirational writing prompts. The result: an eclectic assortment of light-hearted comedy, romance, dark tales, tragedy, slice-of-life stories and expressive verse. While the spires of Milan Cathedral and a café in Toronto provide the backdrop to romance, elsewhere a marriage is arranged, children grapple with loss, and a woman rushes to the side of a life-long friend. With a bit of French cuisine, a spiteful kitty, a mother’s pact with the devil, a birthday kiss and a dash of supernatural revenge, this unique collection offers a tale for all!
It is available in a variety of formats. Here is an amazon link. 
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The keeper of faith
guards the gate
though every soldier surrender;
my heart is a winter,
frozen and still,
forgotten by those who defend her.

in a frozen drift 
on a land with no ruler
legions march, white on white;
the ghosts of my dreams
wander the path
of my heart,
that is dark as the night.

#tumbledownpoetry  Excerpt from "Who Will Love the Crow", 2016, Winter Goose Publishing
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somewhen between
the veil and the day
the color of singing,
the cool sound of blue ~

Somewhere I lean
against breath of the sky
and touch the horizon
that curls into you ~

Sometime I gather
the scent of my dreaming
and fold up the night
in pockets of sand ~

Then sweep up the notions
that rain from the darkness,
tumbling like fire
to the palm of my hand ~
Excerpt from "Who Will Love the Crow" reprinted with permission from Winter Goose Publishing

photo credit by #livie  
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Moist is a GOOD word ...

Earth Trembles

I am Earth.
and Traveler,
I can feel you in the twilight

I can feel your steps coming to me
treading to the sound of my heart pounding
crossing mountains

I feel your hands
dark fingers exploring milky crevices 
your open palms pressing on the cool and moist
soft face against face 
climbing higher
your body strong against me
crossing mountains

I feel your thirsty mouth
drinking from me
and I give more to quench you

I feel your breath 
hot, moving swiftly over restless seas
touching me like moonlight on waves
your breath
hungry and humming
heavy and hushed
stirring dust in hot deserts

fields sway like music when you exhale
trees bend low at your impatience
waters swell 
the moon moves the tides in my hips
you open your arms and the sun rises in them
ebony shroud blankets white flesh
frost melts away from me
sweet dew, slippery lips on lips

Earth trembles 

mountains crumble beneath your gaze
beneath your fingertips
Seas rush in to me
and leave in the sweet rhythm of our selves
your breath, still music,
heavy in the air

Gaia quakes
exposing secret places
dangerous and beautiful
I still feel you.
Excerpt from "Who Will Love the Crow, 2016. Reprinted wih permission from Winter Goose Publishing,
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My Tradition

My only resolution ever is to love myself more so that I may welcome in opportunity for positive change and set myself free from expectations that are not serving me. On New year's Eve I write on a piece of paper those things I wish to leave my life; loneliness, guilt, stagnation, ... On another piece of paper I write those things I wish to enter my life: creative energy, discipline, love, health, friendship ...

At midnight, I burn the two papers together and then I take the ashes and throw them to the night wind. One year I did this and wrote the following poem , the recitation of which has also become part of the tradition.


I scattered ashes to the world
The Moon did not ask why
The stars accepted them as friends
and did intensify
In every ember, burned intent
And I have left my past
The lights that shine above me now
Are dreams my Heart has cast
Now even in this darkest night
The pinholes in dark sky
Remind the bird that she has wings
And once again will fly
Happy New year to you all
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Lost in the myth
of our belonging
hands touch
our palms

stars tumble from your mouth
(you say my name)

and in that darkness
the breath of sleeping hyacinth
perfume our lips

Miriam Dunn, 2014

Photo credit +Beth Akerman 

I am experimenting with the best text font, colour and photo to use for this. If you have feedback :-) etc

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