What are we doing out here,somewhere north of nowhere,our feet sunk in the shallowsof a cold river bed? We were yearning and young once –memories come rushing downstreamas clear and rocky as this river bottom,glinting gold in the summer sun.
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Coming Home
The flood of austere streetlights cuts through the black of a moonless, starless night,projecting monstrous shadows onto fresh pavement – the row of tall oaks yielding to a stiff north wind.But just up the hill, a half a mile or so,is where the single well-lit porch,the faintly glowing front window,the well-worn red door,the well-loved facesContinue reading “Coming Home”
Sight
This is where I begin,by tuning out to tune in,shutting my eyes from the light,opening the cage of imaginationfor imminent flight.All perceptions are suddenly ruled by rhythms,little flourishes of sound,things no longer seen,and through this voluntary blindness, I’m unboundfrom what might otherwise be diminishedin this moving mosaic behind my eyelids.
Fishing
The thought I thought I’d lostsuddenly swam back to the surfaceof my mind one night.I shot out of bed,groped for the light,groped for a pen,but before I could find oneit flit away again.That slippery thoughtI’ve yet to hookinto the netof my nightstand notebook.But each night I cast my line once moreinto a dark sleepy pond,Continue reading “Fishing”
Dreamscape
The little yellow bungalow on the hill,I saw it once in a dream that felt so real,though it’s a place I know I’ve never been.And what if I never have that dream again?Does such a place in the world existoutside of my own head?Somehow, I hope it does,and I hope to find youstill paddling forContinue reading “Dreamscape”
Night & Day
What is night but another burned-out dayclad in dancing shoes and a sleek black party dress,hair down, rife with life and drunken laughter,swaying gracelessly and uninhibited to the floor pulsing beats. Until at last, the music stops. The bands and the DJs pack up.The raucous voices gradually fade –the laughter, always the last to die,asContinue reading “Night & Day”
Ascent
Once while standing at the base of a steep spiral staircase,a fever dream stole my equilibrium –the pinpoint of light above appearing like the tiny aperture at the end of a camera lens as my fluttering eyelids attempted to bring it into focus.Heights have never felt quite right, yet that bright white eye at theContinue reading “Ascent”
Industry
Damned if we do, damned if we don’t.There’s a dam in this riverwhere logs used to floatand jam up downstream,a rusting reminder of a once booming industry,like the billowing smokestack of the paper mill today, tainting our blue skies with toxic plumes of gray,the air stinking like shit whichever way the wind decides to takeContinue reading “Industry”
Opening Day
From where I sitit doesn’t feel much like baseball,but its opening anthems playwhile the slushy remainsof a dark cold seasonseep into storm drains.This soaking rain, when will it end?Meanwhile, in distant stadiumshope is alive again.Somewhere where the sun is mocking us,people are basking in its warmth,gathered in grandstandsin short-sleeves and caps,cradling popcorn, pretzels,hot dogs, andContinue reading “Opening Day”
The Threshold
As you approach the threshold of letting go,you hear the faintest of whispers from somewhere in the back rowof your minds little theaterwhile the projection room abovereels out another cold memorythrough the flickering, dusty light onto the screen. It’s a scene you’ve forced yourself to sit through countless times before. And like many old films,Continue reading “The Threshold”
Your Letter
If it wasn’t for that letter you wrote,typewritten with a purple cat stickeron the front of the envelope,I might have lost hopein small miracles, might have forgottenthe feeling of receiving something otherthan sales flyers or bills.Of course, you could’ve senta plain old email instead,but that wouldn’t dobecause it wouldn’t be you.Then there was that poemContinue reading “Your Letter”
Ode To The Plastic World
This one’s for all the plastic cupsthat have parted my lips,the plastic forks I used to stabthe pasta salad with.For all the plastic budsI’ve jammed in my earsjust so I could hearthose countless playliststhat have sustained methroughout the years.For the little plastic card in my wallet.What’s in yours?Don’t leave home without it.For the hordes ofContinue reading “Ode To The Plastic World”
Haunted Avenues 