there's a stirring in the wrinkled prunes not pitted yet, they engender, in sleepy spring nights, a furnace of fuel for that Rocket Man that Pied Piper Pilot always known as Randy.
Little things that brought a bubble of joy to me in the last few days When you're sick and you do things kind of half assed just to get by, then you realize that the way you did them before was more than enough. When you are still sick, and the wife looks in on … Continue reading The bluebird of happiness
Peculiar kinds of snow today. No wind. Dead calm. Four degrees below freezing. I was out for a little walk. It began with tiny white pellets, not much bigger than mustard seeds. They behaved kind of like those little white beads of Styrofoam that stick to you when you when you take your new TV … Continue reading Spring snow
via Daily Prompt: Captivating In a small, crowded, noisy bar, on a winter's night, he's surrounded by family and friends. There's a dislike for the setting: Having to shout to be heard at your own table, the inevitable loud or belligerent drunks, the tiny bathroom always occupied. He stays anyway, because the band is partly … Continue reading Captivating
Once I helped a buddy. He had a little farm. A makeshift pigpen with metal fencing. I was mucking it out one day, and I saw that one of the bigger hogs had an "L" shaped laceration on its side. No blood. Just a six inch flap of skin hanging down. Must have caught himself … Continue reading Flaps of skin
and so I write this not out of vanity, I hope for really, I am but an old man by government standards but to say how you affect me and to wonder what you see when you look at me and why you do what you do I have been in this town since before … Continue reading Ships that pass in the night (reprise)
This artistry in words has moved me.
Something is missing in the pit of my stomach. I feel the charcoal staircase rupturing, then filling in the cracks of the blank moon. Devastation. Delusion. I see my blue arms extended to the poles of molestation, a sudden resolution of black and white vintage movies. My kitchen sink evaporates somewhere. Devastation.
The monotony of this body screams till my black walls fall, a sunken truth in this concoction of empty bowls and folded curtain stretches. Elasticity. The hands are empty, crooked, decayed.
Oh yes, there is an eclipse appearing on my black braids, swinging swiftly like my lips did once to lick that butter kiss. Appearances and traits are cellophane clinging to my white forehead. The lights appear bound, seized. Stagnate.
I pray and pray to wither the molten frames and fragments. Catharsis. Purification.
The cheek tint once filled the blue sky, the blue water, with sheets of pure…
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we were singers. they knew. they sat us on two chairs, facing one another. we sang, at first in fear. then, with spirit. two came from behind and poured gallons of paint on our heads. First green, then grey. we sang more strongly, making a burbling sound and getting used to the taste. making deals, … Continue reading #9 dream
Backpacking, at the age of twenty five. So young, strong, happy, sober. Secure in myself, and, indeed, it is only me today. In new territory, I am making for the sound of falls. The ominous clouds of the morning are in tatters now, bright rays are spilling through. I push, push, through dense undergrowth, slip … Continue reading a sort of Trinity