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Glass
She stares across the dining room table past the empty chair through the streaked glass at the aging willow tree while caressing her left wrist and the pink valley.
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Russian City Center
1. Easterly wind pushes yesterdays news past the corner of main and 5th. A metal pole stands empty, except for the petite light blond girl leaning at a slight angle, hair rustling. 2. It is December 7th. Low hanging sun graces ice with orange light, each shattered window. 3. The city center of the old…
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Being
I look over the oblong and tooth-shaped boulders caress smooth surfaces like hardened silk and with eyes closed I am transported thousands and millions of years back. A primordial state of fluctuation existed before things larger than myself gave way and the earth went through a transformation a growth spurt and deposited chunks of her…
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Poem – A Visit
This poem saved my writing career, more of an aspiration, a few years ago. Many hours spent in the submission process finally paid off when Whistling Shade kindly accepted it for publication. At that time, it represented a new writing style and format for myself. I wanted to create a conversation between a child and…
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Harvard Street
Within this small space connected to the non-sterile Outside space swathed in greying light, So much energy enters, exits, combines and consumes Each other, my awareness bounces amongst Many beings and I become anxious, Unable to concentrate, unable to focus, and for a moment Stuck on this plane, unable to advance to the next. My…
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Empty Streets – Part 2
Snow fell yesterday, unnoticed except the sparse puddles and streaks running down windows. Pale white fingers trace circles, and faint words only she knows. Children retreat within from rusting swingsets listing in loose ground. Chain-link fence lost inside a jumble of browned grass returning from dormant endings.
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Empty Streets – Part 1
Moments ago this street was empty. Stale and buzzing yellow lights cast long shadows of vacant park benches and thin white birch. Days will pass before the white truck pulls in from the east, down main street and exchanges letters with the blue boxes. Corner cafe through the cracked glass distorts the rising sun.
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Searching
Stars travel millions of miles to come here Greeted by curious eyes and machines in heaven Large saucer-shaped ears in burning dessert sands Metallic beings wait in silence for fluctuations and signals Differing from the perception of normal defined By graphs numbers and extensions of the human mind. What if we are the fluctuation and…
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When
When I leave this life, this series of steps making this reality I will choose where I go next – the dense forest beneath the blue canopy.
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Mirror
Mirrors line smoky hallways devoid of voices or sounds other than heavy feet. I stand before the city of industry concrete, steel, and glass. The city falls before me. Who? How? These hands heavy and soaked. Gasoline permeates the evening air beneath the greying sky. I do not remember coming here. I am not certain…