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By the Sea

I walked with Clarice today. She wore a skirt with accordion pleats, An angora sweater, and real pearls. Her black shoes had round toes and straps. Like a doll’s. Her hair in Shirley Temple ringlets. They bounced when she skipped, and she did, twice. We didn’t hold hands. I wasn’t sure if she would permit […]

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Too little, too late?

It doesn’t matter now. What you say. What you do. If you cry, gnash teeth, rend clothing, wear ashes. There are no more new leaves to be turned over. A change of heart grows of its own, and not quickly. See, only a few will have seats in the parliament of planets.

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personal note

Originally posted on Within A Forest Dark:
photog_at 20130821-SU 1954 flickr Thank you for reading my blog. Since its inception in August 2013, I have published over one hundred forty fiction pieces. Thank you for reading the month of October as I throw down with fellow flash writers for a micro challenge: One prompt based…

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Mister wrong

The blush of May-December A soul-spoken smile. Sidelong glances In a game for two Illicit attention then Public shame She preened no more And December went down In dark turbulence Two wrongs, though eager and rushed, Did not make a right

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