grand centralia is abandoned

away, there is none to be thrown to
for garbage or daughters. Another day
another landfill overflows with might-haves.
burn them, restart tender tinder, recoil
from flammables, deify gambles, ashes.
smoke’s lies swear soldier’s oaths, never
again… embers draw low
breaths, ignite anthracite veins to
smoulder decades sinkholes open air
beneath feet lurch, against stiffening
word arms reach, be buried secure in chests
treasure for a moment over sweated quest-
ions, 3700 acres spread honeycombed
burn, the tremble too small to detect is

—

Centralia, PN anthracite mine town
http://www.offroaders.com/album/centralia/centralia.htm

—
For Ringing of the Bards at Prodigal Aspersions is A Tolling Laments on March 31

The One Deep Breath prompt of the week is One Line haiku. The urban highrise spring has no flowers, no color change. There’s newness in rain, thunder, and one marked seasonal return, once the ice and snow has gone for sure…
.
.
.

spring comes in Harleys gunning
.
.
.
If you go around, don’t miss Sound of Splinters.

More: One Line Haiku at Poetry Lives

Sometimes shredded packing paper wasn’t shredded vertically…it’s not distraction if it becomes intent…

text reads:

minarets and mosques / still / reference
income. / who did not want to give/
assigned / your tentative war with / a value
control. It, River / that runs through
generated each day / arguments in their rest
located / on other side. And
almost four decades / revolutionary. Yet/ institutional
luncheons / happened to occur

Does one get around to or away from the holy and spiritual with so much life needing attending?

This is a Postlette Outlet. Sort of like a Postal Outlet, yes, except completely different.
This isn’t a post, per se, see. Because I’m not posting today, as by prior agreement with myself, and I see no conflict with posting, er, postletteing, if I close my eyes while typing, so if you see any typos, it’s not me, because I’m not here. Besides I think by implication or assumption the intent of my statement was that I wasn’t going to post today at my other blog. So this is fine in any case. See how that works?
To continue on silly note, Mad Kane has something for you to read,

The response to my spring limerick contest exceeded my wildest hopes – nearly 60 poems were submitted. In fact, there were so many wonderful entries — some poignant, some laugh-out-loud funny — that it was hard to select the winners.
But the voting’s in and the panel has rendered its decision. Okay, I admit it – it was a panel of one – me. Still, I did so much arguing with myself, that it felt like a much larger panel.

…The Limericks

Happy World Poetry Day! Its purpose is to “give fresh recognition and impetus to national, regional and international poetry movements.” Write and read at every level.

The poem a few days ago is one of the Blackout Poems shown at that site this week.

Love the fruitfulness that comes from one source.

In other news,

               begins
Spring                         today

    

                                       bounce
Doesn’t that put a                         in the
                                                                                                step.