a gust of evening wind cools the skin while I follow a path beneath pine boughs and their sweet aroma an opening light of the moon brushes past mists of ghosts stars appear like diamond footsteps pointing toward home as night follows close by my side
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
words slip through boundaries of light and shadow between fences posts past sleeping cats words are strength from imagination fathoms words become whispers in night promises in morning begging hurting believing following into dreams yet to appear
The moon a legend in the sky a face to talk to a light to cry under a beacon for our paths alongside rivers shorelines and late night sidewalks we observe from here at the basement of gravity a beauty that haunts us.
I’m on my own line there’s no sideways just the only road I know a nameless opening to slip through the green grass on the other side is well past and without flavor to remember and faces forgotten night rest now comes easy
she holds close the pain careful not to break it like a hunger she feeds it in morning speaking to it at night grieving flows within watering the splinters of thoughts embedded in memories helping her is not easy when the voices attack me I know she’s still alive inside when … More THE VOICES
A slap of cold air bruised blue the covering of my skin A bullying wind caught me by the neck twisting my hat yesterday’s newspaper jumped from the grasp of a fence lodging at my ankles like a homeless pup night pulls dark over my steps.
The words spoken were like threads thinning at the elbow, deep thoughts from a cold heart with warm hands a story of the distant from here about adding to the next step after the last one taken speaking darkly about alleys cutting between buildings of memories and voices at the clothesline or the … More SOFTLY WE GO
It was a summer day spent away on a road without names or numbers an unknown destination absent of stress a wind away from the start a breath nearer to the end a back road where long shadows are welcome and night breezes welcome the passage of gardenias and the sound of very little or … More OVER AND AROUND
Late into night images appear on the ceiling of my bedroom sharp angles momentary slivers of car lights traffic signals neon flashes crawling, colliding perishable images appearing then vanishing without sound as the slip down melting onto the wall