MY PAGES

A curious wind turned turned the pages living in residence within me   paper thoughts and pictures of me tumbled from within as a familiar history unfolded with faces of laughter and others suffering in pain   the binding of truth and fiction is strong forming a web holding the center of the story firm … More MY PAGES

ALWAYS THERE

It was a black moon night absent of shadows, full of dreams. Days bouquet of clouds melted into tasteful air. There was a release of sounds, living for a moment, then lost. The pulse of dark became strong. A light breeze engaged unwilling leaves. Stone walls held tightly the history of land. There was a … More ALWAYS THERE

THE SOUND OF KEYS

The darkened museum was an effusion of history and rare artifacts.  The floors were well-worn from observers and lovers of art. Paintings, warriors swords and pottery was exhibited in corners or on platforms with detailed descriptions. In one display, a black antique typewriter, a publishing piano, creating concerts of words, striking to the marrow of … More THE SOUND OF KEYS

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

HEADING SOUTH

Warm desert winds coarse wildly through open car windows on a highway past abandoned gas stations and dirt roads leading to somewhere. The driver owns one sweat stained shirt absent of buttons and ripped jeans. He carries a history of miles.  Never reads road signs, just turns when he wants, passing towns he may have … More HEADING SOUTH