NIGHT TRAVELER

There is a vision inside of everyone. A vision of something distant from reality, yet persistent, attempting to create belief. A flash of honey sweetens the dreams that we hide in our pillows. Stories tightly wrapped in linen.   A fresh song or story taps its way to the surface, turning over the stone of … More NIGHT TRAVELER

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

THE HEART OF SONG

Two blocks into Harlem.  White shirts, black ties, flowered dresses, patent leather shoes, tattoos and beautiful hair; the streets are always alive.   The beat mixes up.  The man with a full beard smiles, exposing a picket fence for teeth.  Conga drums call out the dance in people.  Red and purple cotton hats jive like … More THE HEART OF SONG

NOT FAR FROM HERE

The sidewalk is a stream, a playground, an escape without arrows to point the way out. Fallen stars, the scattering of dreamers believing in second chances, light the city at night. Children remain close by, guarded by the fences of stern warnings.  Their visions asleep as they accept the ideas of less.  Surrounding aromas are … More NOT FAR FROM HERE

WASHED OVER

An overhead subway creeps between brownstones.  Sharp shadows like falling venetian blinds cut across the moving cars.  From the street below steam pipes belch gray mists.  Visions of the city become abstracts of other visions; seldom is there a clear choice.   Late night diners with doors open and tables full of lively hand conversations, … More WASHED OVER

NIGHT CRAWLERS

The train lunged in and out of order.  Heads swayed like displaced seaweed mocking gravity.  The stars and moon remained in place.  Thick metal wheels turn with conviction.  There is no shame for those asleep, leaning onto windows, newspapers for pillows. The miles create a low hum.  The engine possesses a pure heart. White smoke … More NIGHT CRAWLERS

A BELL RUNG

He thought greatly of himself. His phrases and finger pointing attempted to fill the nothingness beneath his shirt.  He was respective of others as long as they listened to him.  His neckties were bright and his eyes fired from a burn on his tongue.  Business was his business but no one knew what business. The … More A BELL RUNG

TICKETS PLEASE

The last train holds seats for strangers.  Yesterday’s newspapers catch at the ankles of the sleep and possessed.  The rhythm of steel wheels creaks loudly into the corners, alarming no one.  Sinners pray for home. Saints sleep past their stop. Passing city lights reflect in a moment of blur, revealing sad eyes and lonely streets; … More TICKETS PLEASE

HALF WAY

It was a dull circle of sleep. A separation where day folds into slumbered haze.  Mumbled half words tumble out.  An occasional roar breaks the silence.  It’s a time between lucid and insanity.  Emptiness and heroism.  A storm of thoughts strike the base of heaven; the soul envies the catacombs of control.   Hours appear … More HALF WAY

TODAY’S MASK

TODAY’S MASK     It stands again.  The opening of day.  Clothes fashioned in dreams, purchased in the dawn of shadowed choices.  We awake in aspirations.  Forged in tosses and turns.  We fill our hair from a shower to wash the sleep out. We transfer to the towel unused and excess water.  The song of … More TODAY’S MASK