Could it be that I have pushed away pain and sorrow and failure to the point that I have nothing to gain? That I have dumbly succeeded and that is what drives my misery now. This normal ho-hum day cycling on and on and on. I can feel it, this cycle, I know it exists…
A pair of hidden coots in the sedge line driven out by raucous fighter jets. Bubbles alive with memory trail upon the lake top.
To Sons and Daughters
To our sons or daughters, You have nothing to be ashamed of, whatever it is that they mock you for, it is also them; There is nothing that belongs to you that is not also theirs. The streets are hungry and the alleyways hungrier still, and you will find in your own way that language…
i had a daydream then, as i was being drawn to the noose someone in the crowd yelled, traitor! it was so vivid as echoes on the old stone walls. the rope squeezed and i realized i’ve been traversing incomprehensible distances inside my own mind, while running the treadmill.
Three Sisters They talk and theytwist memories outfrom the aether, spin-ning them over andagain into new dramas —three-headed destinyeach one shedslight; a spotlightof information. Theyare like one mindthinking over the pastforming opinions,laughing at long-forgotten disagreementsfinding new groundto stand on
It’s lunchtime and here I am sitting in my van parked in a grocery store parking lot, blowing my nose in a used napkin. A napkin previously used to blow my nose. Homemade vinaigrette sits on the dash in hopes that the December sun is heavy enough to break through the overcast and liquefy the…
I’m just throwing incendiaries into the dark, to light this place up, hoping to catch a picture of what’s really going on.
I have a secret desire to forage, to spend long hours absorbed by the hunt. Searching, through spray of stream, under plump drops from branches above. To find that knowledge held in the palms of ancestors and buried in trunks of elder pine would be to forage on the least likely, but only proven path.…
Down an auxiliary street in the industrial park cars and RVs line the curb By afternoon parking enforcement brings a a tow to clear out those that are being used to sleep in. Those being used to live a life, to cook over dying flames. Next morning the empty spaces are already being filled in…
When I Was Twenty
I read a poem with the line, when I was twenty, and I wanted to start a poem, with the line, when I was twenty. . . until I soon realized that when I was twenty, I wasn’t much different as now, in my late thirties. Still, with the same afflictions, the same passions, the…