"dazzle gradually"

"Dazzle Gradually" 2017 poems, paintings, new art & photography--a diary, a discipline, a delight. Read over my shoulder as I post my unedited poetry ---you can see it in the raw or get my first book and see how the work evolves with new books rolling out next year.

Polly Alice

Monday, December 30, 2013

Here is a wonderful poem by one of my favorite writers.  He is a guest blogger and, at my request, wrote a letter to a children's book character.  I think, however, my brother might be the world's first poet to incorporate the fourth dimension into this poems.  There are links in here to explore as well.  Enjoy. Visit his blog here.

Dear Alice,

Welcome back from the other side of the looking glass. I’d like for us to have a talk about your problem of always being the same size.
Magnitude is silly when you see that the nature of perception is as dynamic as your relation to your own imagination. Don’t think about that on this side of the mirror.
I’m fond of mushrooms too. Usually, I have to eat them before I see strange talking animals. You can pretend to be a talking animal anyway, no matter what you put in your eggs. I’ve pretended to be a talking animal for years. 
I heard there was a Tea Party in Washington these days. When will they learn that everyone involved is always mad? You can’t have a sane Tea  Party. Not on this side of the mirror.
For cats with detached smiles, I think singing a popular Bj√∂rk song works best. Just don’t throw the cat, that’s what I’ve learned. Throw your voice. Make that cat wonder why it started to sing from behind it’s clenched teeth.
For royalty, always assume that there is some strange game in store. If it’s chess you must play, call it checkers the whole time and insist you don’t know the rules. Allow them to choose all your moves until they defeat themselves. Applaud their cunning.
That’s all for now dear, if we ever meet on opposite sides of a mirror I’ll be sure to disappear at once and not leave my teeth behind. I hate talking behind my own back.
With love,

Friday, December 6, 2013

Tattoo 22


Take one sweet and sour life
squeeze it into a two fingered amber glass
Climb out from under one crushing experience
Beat it like a metal drum
Find a symbol scrap,
fallen on the floor
slide it underneath skin

Thursday, December 5, 2013

Wednesday, November 27, 2013


Pegasus stamps open his wings to our left
Cassiopeia kneels on our right
The pole spins on its axis
as we unwind
beneath their icy breath
standing free on our terrace.
As we spin
counter wise,
and all that we know falls away,
I’d just like to say
I like it here—
I like it here inside
this purple and white fleshed
core where
there is enough.
Where there is 


You spend the day 

in hope and stuff 
away your dreams 
at night 
to sleep
I spend the day 
in dread to pull
cool dreams 
like sheets
my hopes
you never

Tuesday, November 26, 2013


When it’s quiet enough
the night cooks light
low into a dark syrup,

When it’s dark enough
the sun sleeps like a round cheeked 
Blues musician.

Me, my mind whirls with the wonder of words

You tell me to
go to sleep.

I am a cricket chirping
under the corner
of the garden wall,

Don’t you smell it—
the first frost?

Monday, November 25, 2013

I had a lemon tree

I had a lemon tree 
that would not grow lemons,
so I kicked it, and screamed at it,
threw obscenities at it’s small trunk. 
I waited.
I watched the tree grow cut glass pitchers 
of pure lemonade—
engraved into each glass
was my sour expression.