As I watch today’s changing sky, I am surprised to understand how little it reminds me of your eyes. If you expect more of me or this poem— perhaps that I should see, in that blue and changeling gray, some vast reflection of steady you, or that this poem should tell how love finds memory … Continue reading Contemplating Blue
It’s dark. Tail lights are red ellipses of the sentence of our journey. Belief prevails that a light will clear the empty dark— will open uncertainty like a poem with a hero like Achilles, a goddess like Aphrodite, and tell us into the wonderful story of our lives. An erasing rain garbles what light there … Continue reading On the Bus
The old man asked “feed me please” “All I have is Cottage Cheese,” I said. “Large curd,” But he heard the rhyming word— And would not eat my Cottage Cheese.
The waiting area for flight Delta 3332 was absolutely mobbed. It was standing room only. There were squalling kids, frazzled mothers, and fathers so deeply in denial they were either nose deep into Red October or scanning the flesh. There were the usual assortment of business travelers, leaning over the laptops proped on their knees, … Continue reading Denny and the ADA
Eric was frosted. The new young Bishop had not asked him to narrate the Christmas program. For the first time in twenty-seven years, the Bishop had not called on him, with his trained voice, to read the verses of Luke and introduce the Elders, the women, and the children each in their turn. For the … Continue reading On the Seventh Day
“It’s the Win’er’s Solice today,” Bert Osburned said. “I think. Isn’t it?” He pulled his heavy brows down over his little eyes, a serious frown, which is about the way he made all his proclamations. He wore a wide brim hat and scuffed boots and had been a history teacher at the high school. Since … Continue reading A December Twenty-First Argument
Sometimes the assumptions behind a good question need a bit of clarifying. It is understood that the question in the link below is asking about how some words slid in meaning between 1967 and 2018; but the response here chooses to look at the more interesting question related to the malleability of language. Lee Robison … Continue reading What was the Original Meaning of Skirt? Or do I Mean Shirt?
I Am between willow thicket's wintering birds and Handel's Lofted Choir. In response to the Ragbag daily prompt: bridge
They wheel him out doors, lock wheels. The old dog brings a stick. He heaves it from his seat— a wheelchair in wanlight— Sun through empty branches. Days past he’d fetch the stick again. He leans down, strokes the wiry nape— Posted in response to Ragtag Community Word of the Day play.
Listen, Irene. If I was just playing him, do you think I’d be out here in this walking the dogs? Jesus! If I were just playing, I’d be trailer trashing south for Arizona instead of here in winter walking his goddamned dogs. I made a commitment on him—even if he is tardy on that himself. … Continue reading Andi Finally Ballistics her Future MIL