Garbed in pastels and duns I went, though there were whims of crimson, and blue ebullience. And I was always just around the corner, safe in softness, empty of the passings by. On a day, I thought to write lines with hooks and sinkers. A thing to underlie, a thing to fill this tired camouflage.
The getaway
as a freshening teenage boy just shy of sixteen years foisted from a battle-scarred home into this supposed school of highness he is already in retreat from vitriolic violence from love that has gone from hormonal eruptions from the Bullies Three the ostracization of the ostrich he builds his defences hands upon hands upon hands... Continue Reading →
Pierce my heart with cast iron arrows
Fifty years on, in my sad unpacking, this time of letting go, I find, pressed between panes, a polaroid. A face is fuzzily framed in one angled corner, and I think it's you. A blur of bouncy ponytail, laughing eyes and bunny teeth. Looking up, waving goodbye to balloons released, bound for a section of... Continue Reading →
From Thralldom to Salvation
"Are you an anxious person?", the therapist said. Our man then recalled the thoughts and emotions that preceded his blackout at the wheel on that wintry night not so long ago. He had awakened, after what seemed only a few seconds, with his car in the ditch, a fat lip, and a bloody nose. Otherwise,... Continue Reading →
The Captive, in thrall
Almost a year from the day he saw his "tiny dancer", he still struggles to bury the image, and sees this as a strange and fascinating illness of the soul. Am I weak? Evil? Insane, to let this affect me thus? Has my life been so devoid of joy that I see, every day, the... Continue Reading →
AreMyFeetOffTheGround 