Inspiration Point

I've challenged myself to do as many of these as I can.


Mathematics (IP)

The world has been divided many times. There is an entire calculus devoted to it: take the integral of religion, or the derivative of war. Show your work. The dead know only arithmetic, the unkind subtraction

Midpoint (IP)

There is something faintly ridiculous about middle age. It's the point when life is no longer rehearsal, but life. Possibilities traded for a red...

Notes on the Construction of Cloud-Castles (IP)

Cloud-castles require careful structuring. No mortar will hold a brick of mist, or a turret of stars. The architect must bear in mind that dreams...
Gold cherry
Poem of the week

Regarding your roses, sir. (IP)

I walk in a sunlight world sometimes And breathe it in entire, wanting to absorb it all Quickly, before it fades away. I love it for the fragility, not to want to linger.

tweets from the future (I.P.)

[playing with tweetform: each stanza 144 characters] 144 character bursts since twitters advent articles are lost art writing sentences like novels...

Committed (I.P.)

The first time I was committed it was for butterflies spinning round my head like in a cartoon. I couldn't swat them away, though I tried and tried. It gave me a headache. ...

This world was not made for agnostics (IP)

(Late IP : Get Committed) This world was not made for agnostics, she said. It's a believer's world. It's big and hard and unjust and you've got to hang on to something...

The Moving Vans of my Childhood (late IP: moving)

As a child I lived in seven houses. I learned how to sort life into boxes, that gardens could make way for pavement, to love only those toys I could...

When we were not afraid (I.P.)

It was only that we hadn't learned-- but back then the summer lasted and we sprawled late nights as concrete heat leeched blood from our veins in a limb-tangled fraternity behind the school

Deus Ex

A beated I.P., Deus Ex Machina - it's been percolating for days, and finally emerged. Orestes, though a matricide, was saved from the Furies when Athena stepped out of a machine to absolve him. Hippolytus the pure was not spared, but a dragon- chariot was sent for Medea who murdered her children.
Gold cherry

Seven Sins

This is a glum poem, so I'm including a baby sloth. I think we need not fear to sin, for sin has grown less deadly. Take avarice. The bankers have, and yet it seems that they will own the world and more.

Noise (IP)

An infant bursting into white light wails. Shattering, the sound wave washes outward and is lost in the general background hum. A tired mother clings to the echo.

Spring's Not Real (Late IP: Solstice)

Spring is a sort of wishful thinking / a door half-open, unable to decide.


If i was a superhero I wonder Could I save you from yourself?