What might I be doing today if I’d stopped, just once, all those years agoto glance back at my burning city?Where would I have been yesterday?Where would I be tomorrow?Whose story would I be writing now?Whose life might I be living?Would I still be living at all?I’m powerless to stop these questionsfrom sparking up andContinue reading “What Will Never Be”
Author Archives: Mark Alden
Stained Glass
Where as once a childnow sits the old man, lifting his headfrom a Sunday morning doze,heavy-lidded eyes cracking opento a kaleidoscope of bleeding colorsslowly swimming into focus. Now as then, the old familiar longingto launch himself up and out of his seatto join the rising dust moatsas they sail high above the choirinto the streamingContinue reading “Stained Glass”
Where Loneliness Gathers
I’ll bet there’s a little karaoke bar on a remote cornerof some godforsaken one stop light townthat looks a lot like the edge of the world,and that there are desperate people gathered there,some at this very moment, sitting alone, quietly sipping their foamy beers,contemplating why they are there.Perhaps it’s because they are tired of feelingContinue reading “Where Loneliness Gathers”
Tell Me
Tell me what you saw,tell me what you know,tell me which way you came,tell me which way to go,tell me there’s nothing to fear,tell me everything’s the same,tell me it was all just a dream,tell me it was all just a game. Tell me, tell me, tell me!it was all in my head.
Bullets For Breakfast
Bullets are flying. Again.Early and everywhere.Bullets in your ear at seven a.m.as you turn on the television.Bullets on the screenwhile you make your coffee.Bullets in the news.Bullets in your social media feed.Bullets in America.Bullets in Darfur.Bullets in Kyiv.More than enough bulletsproduced in a single year to kill us all.Bullets in every cityand small town acrossContinue reading “Bullets For Breakfast”
Subzero
There’s an old red bicyclefrozen in the snowin front of a little clapboard bungalowat the far end of my street.There’s a thick wool capon this silly ass head,thermal socks, and heavy bootson these crunching feet.Why, oh why in hell, I ask,did I venture out here on a morningwhen I could’ve just stayed asleep?
Midnight Ramble
It begins in cold darknessand the thick solitude of a quiet carsplashing through the empty streetsof town. Flashing traffic lights,Christmas lights, porch lightsleft to burn, water streaked vestigesof a brighter world I missed while asleep.This is the time for me. It’s all so clear,a silent symphony of subtle revelationsotherwise muted by the daylight clamorof horns,Continue reading “Midnight Ramble”
Last Standing
High, sprawling, and audacious in the sun,older than the country it stands in,bare boned against the November coldwind whipped, stripped of its summer clothes,the tree reaches the attention of every eye that passes, commands respect by way of fact that it still stands,resolute as a statue, welcoming the open sky, the rain, the snow, theContinue reading “Last Standing”
Wind
The wind is a feral animal tonight,moaning, circling, lashing out –random acts of violence in our midst. The little lights on the front porchrock about maniacally,glittering against the glass,a ghostly mirror ball inviting us to danceto the wind chimes chilling melody. The dog barks incessantly,issuing stern warningsto the invisible intruder.Perhaps she is telling itwhat weContinue reading “Wind”
Your Former Self Calling
Empty out the past.Hold fast to tangible things. Give up the ghoststhat haunt these silent rooms. Give up your reasonsfor not turning back toward that distant landof high hopes and deserted dreams. Easy to say, it’s true,never so easy to do, and this is why I’m calling you.“Wake up, wake up! Begin again.”
We Push It Down
We push it downto drown the soundof that seductive(if not slightly unhinged)inner voice, inviting us to jump the railsinto a deliciously wild country.Yes, we push it, push it, pack it down,this is how we move aroundthe world in a straight line,gain respect, becomeupstanding citizens,obedient animals in the field,when sometimes all we really wantis to dropContinue reading “We Push It Down”
When We Were Young
We weathered every stormnever stopping to consider how or why,took what we were givenand knew not to ask for more,did what we were told,(sometimes grudgingly)swallowed each and every lie,couldn’t wait to be free. Then one day we became our parents.One day we became the lie,repeating over and overold programmed routines,never trusting we could fly,never imaginingContinue reading “When We Were Young”
Haunted Avenues 