THE LAST PICNIC

scattered at the crossroads a pair of shoes left without a note plastic flamingos broken bottles cigarettes and a purse   cactus cast shadows over sand and rock   the sun moves past the other side of barren hills   cool breezes give flight to paper plates and red napkins   while night blinds the … More THE LAST PICNIC

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MEDIUM WELL

The official opening of day lifts the blinds off night.  The worms Of dreaming feast on the history of sleep, devouring the angels that attempt to free me.  A warm fresh breeze softens morning. People in cars search for fields, escaping the wickedness of the game of where they should be. Its easier for the … More MEDIUM WELL

BLIND

He would see with his hands, map readers of sorts. His fingers were pencils discovering the curves of a wall or the shape of a face; the continuance of good or evil.   His feet sensed the earth between dirt and roads, solid or weak, as he chose the way from the dark caverns of … More BLIND