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

LINEN SONG

fair winds circled past open windows teasing checked and striped curtains snapping their ends against red stained brick walls signaling like a ship messages to the sky  

NEXT STREET OVER

The memory place. A filling in of the in-between with disarmingly haunting voices wrapped in frail burlap.  A cooperative sadness strives to overtake.  Faces like mannequins appear with irregularity, easing the initial pains of those left behind; everyone’s looking for a familiar song. Red brick walls with a faded ad stares from the second floor; … More NEXT STREET OVER