Twiglet #85

A twiglet is a short phrase. Or a word. Its aim is to “prompt” a flow. A thought. A memory. If something comes to mind, write. A polished piece isn’t the goal; creativity is. Leave a link, if you’d like your work read, but comments should not be expected. Twiglets are posted on Tuesdays.

21 thoughts on “Twiglet #85”

  1. She was six shots
    and a trigger finger –
    was that whisky
    or was she a pistol –
    not unlike my mother
    to belly to the bar
    bang her mother-of-pearl
    handled revolver down call
    for rounds all-around
    fired back
    Deadeye Jane but still standing
    the men knocked flat
    like carnival targets.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. July 20, at 8 PM

    I put down a poem about Dürer’s hare.
    Two mockingbirds drove a hawk across the half moon
    and down the drive,
    a rabbit looked up like a female passenger
    observing the driver of a semi stopped by light,
    a drab cardinal searched the blue feeder fruitlessly
    for safflower seeds,
    the black cat asked for my attention
    as if I were a barista or something.
    I finished my jelly mug of decaf
    poured two hours ago.
    These things are not like my mother.

    Liked by 1 person

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