Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • We are entering the mouth of dark
    in every paint dream,
    we are sailing on night feet
    into fleet gold and the twisted weeping.

    There are small moons outside our
    hearing, small dragon stains
    above us
    in the too bright.

    In our lucid mournings
    it is way too bright
    for our brains.

    This dark
    This gold
    This footed mud with eyes.

    (Photo of Susan at the Art Gallery of Ontario, January 13, 2016)

    (This poem of mine originally appeared in January 2016 on a blog devoted to poems inspired by the painting "Sunrise with Sea Monsters," by the great English artist J.M.W. Turner.)
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.