“Dappled Spectacle” We lived on the second floor growing up. The sounds of neighborhood proximity danced through the screens and curtain sheers on sunny shadowed mornings. The aliveness of the day pulled us out of our sweaty summer beds, and coaxed us out, out….
“My Tired” My tired stretches outward, and underwhelms. Staunch narcoleptics, snoring pots and pans to beat the band. Slumber robs youth of steady confidence. Methodical metronome, cadence of an old age home, waiting to retire. Sweaty yellow pillowcases carry the weight of the world….
“Hung Out to Dry” Many, many summers ago, when I lived atop of Bunker Hill Street, my Mother dried the cleaned clothes, by hanging them on a drying horse rack. Time and a breeze, were the common necessaries to make it work. The summer…
“In anticipation of your death” In anticipation of your death, I wanted you to know, that we wasted so much time. That, we barely scraped the surface of truth between us. So much is left unsaid. So much won’t be said. The…
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