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

PASSING THROUGH

Over the desert floor high wires hum in monotone   supported by steel frames passing messages relaying news births and deaths   far below snakes and insects sage brush abandoned cars pieces of the unknown footprints broken glass a shoe and a shovel        

TWISTED WIND

The wind was the change   granite against paper   shadows unfrozen running from a forbidden sleep   the faithful pray the fastest get to safety first   rational thoughts create sweat and pull out the tears   the bones of trees rattle xylophone’s into jealousy   shoes and those without step rightly with concern … More TWISTED WIND

RUNNING AWAY

Open boxcars men failed at chance broken families seasons to forget miles separate the pain turned up collars faded jeans empty pockets soft eyes yesterdays meal from garbage cans behind a diner at a river town   bayous and bridges sand and deserts push on engines running hot grease and creosote luck long gone past … More RUNNING AWAY

OPEN FOR A CHANCE

Just past midnight there’s a revival of stragglers and empty pocket musicians at a corner diner where the boisterous aroma of grease and burnt toast fill stagnant air. Writers with frayed collars, artists wearing scuffed shoes and actors not yet acting sit on red vinyl seats around black formica tables.  There is rebellion in crooked … More OPEN FOR A CHANCE

CLEANING UP

Rain waxes the sidewalk to an earthly shine.  Black clouds spell out a beating.  Rivers open their mouths.  Streams pray to grow. Umbrellas begin to appear, preparing to spring into action.  Women begin to hurry for cover.  Men walk as if the sun were shinning.  Kids splash the anger out of puddles.  Eyes look down … More CLEANING UP

FROM UP HERE

Low clouds dampen an early Fall afternoon.  Sounds of pigeons overhead and newspapers opening become absorbed into an unmistakable dullness.   People hold hands, thanking the stars for dreams coming true.  Puddles of last nights rain reflects treetops and corners of buildings protected by gargoyles.   The aroma of tar and steam touches everyone passing … More FROM UP HERE