Welcome to the Dandy Duchess Logbook

Like all good airships our gigantic hot air balloon bed, the Dandy Duchess, keeps her own logbook. She has impeccable handwriting.

To honor the poets and their timeless artistry, we will publish the poems from our Poetry Nap adventures here for you. Sometimes the full poem makes it into a Chapter; sometimes parts; and sometimes we take poetic license to suit our escapades; however, here below you will find the originals in their full glory.

We’ll also share other gems of music and musing. Please be sure to join the mailing list to receive your weekly Poetic Perk, our gift of a poem in your inbox every Tuesday morning.

Ethereally, surreally, and really yours,
Lady & Lord Dosis

Song at Sunset · by Walt Whitman

SPLENDOR of ended day floating and filling me,Hour prophetic, hour resuming the past,Inflating my throat, you divine…

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Ballad of Black / Essence · by Eugene B. Redman

Firstforce or earth-driven godman; globe-song Dance-embroidered in rhythmtree; Flamefever inside blood, inside…

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From the book: Lifting Hearts off the Ground · by Lyla June Jonston

Sweet cedar smoke curlsinto the midnight sky. The songs of the people are enteringour bodies, teaching each cell,each…

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Protocol · by Joy Harjo

I do not know your language though I hear the breaking of wavesthrough the vowels. It is blue and if I am to follow…

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elation · by Lady Dosis

we have become the flowerthat we've always dreamed we’d beforever in the danceforever in the perfect pinecone frenzy of…

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Third Poet · by James Broughton

This cup contains an unearthly nectar habitually served at the wedding of wizards. It is compounded by local seraphs and…

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For Keeps · by Joy Harjo

Sun makes the day new. Tiny green plants emerge from earth. Birds are singing the sky into place. There is nowhere else I…

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Voice of the Earth – or Protoplasm · by Adrian Arias

Cuando entro en el ríomi pequeño cuerpo tiemblasé que estoy vivoy no pueden los dioses arrebatarme esa sensación. La…

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The Harp · by Pablo Neruda

Only the music moved. Milks, feathers, skins,names and smoke–nothing else was, neither nightnor the day, as the planets…

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To a Wrinkled Boulder · by Pablo Neruda

A wrinkled stonepolishedby sea, by air,by time.A giant rock, shakenby a cyclone, by a volcano,by a nightof seafoam and…

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