i am so glad
winter is fading away
and the windows can be opened
so that the breeze can carry us
to someplace other than this moment
as if in a dream
warm and inviting
like forgotten summer days
where we under the willow tree
enjoyed life without hesitation
Not knowing the future
unaware of our mortality
because it was just a summer day
and we were just children

the rain pours out of the gutters
and onto the loading dock
blue grey day of quiet thoughts
lost letters and forgotten moments
people no longer with us
memories
swirling clouds mingle with buildings
colors saturate and intensify
the rain grows louder
the heart slows with sadness
blue grey day of
disquieting thoughts

If I could play the sitar
I would
I would play a song that evoked
sultry hot monsoon days
and dark promiscuous nights
and
sad morning afters
I would
pluck the strings
in some remarkable artistic fashion
leaving the listener
enthralled
appalled
tapping his or her foot
in time

with
the




music.

troubled youth

.


ok
so he was 54 not 14
but it felt like familiar territory
flying upside down
unable to determine the horizon
raindrops obscuring
what's up ahead
hold on
this isn't in the manual
take another drink
throttle up
bank and roll
it could be another crash landing
it could be another dream
hey
isn't it about time
lessons were learned
injuries avoided
o
ok
hit the ejector seat
and hope the
parachute
doesn't malfunction





.

The light from the exploding star had been travelling for almost as long as everything had been. It had crossed unimaginable distances as it passed through one solar system after another on its way to the edge of the galaxy and beyond. Now, a single photon from that immense explosion reached Jimmy’s right eye as he gazed up into the night sky with his Tasco refracting telescope. Of course, he had no idea that this remarkable interstellar traveller had arrived on earth, and not just in his immediate vicinity, but inside his optical nerve. It was too infinitesimal to make an impression upon his life. This fantastically rare event went unnoticed. Jimmy twisted the little black knob to bring the true object of his attention into focus: Saturn. There it was, this little blob of light, with a tiny visible ring, beckoning Jimmy to dream big. It allowed him to imagine that his life wasn’t going to be the same, forever. That his grandmother’s decrepit mobile home wouldn’t be his only home, that Ms. Swenson would reveal a little more than just her thigh the next time she shifted her legs while sitting in front of the class, that his sister wouldn’t need to wear diapers and be spoon fed even though she was seventeen. Saturn promised something better. This little blob of light ignited his imagination and caused his heart to leap. He hoped the night would never end.

fine focus

I remember Catcher in the Rye
being better
And Walkabout being more
remarkable
and Northern Exposure
more funny and brilliant
what
changed?
It must have been me
It wasn't Chris at KBHR
or the two kids in the Outback
or Holden Caulfield
They're still the same
perhaps it's the internet
that's made my mind weak
and shortened my attention span
even further
Maybe it's the light from my tiny little
black hole
attempting to escape this gravity
and nothing
changed
I just can't see
beyond the horizon

misdirected
disenfranchised
increasingly paranoid
down-and-out
he rants about his coffee shop
"everything happens in a coffee shop"
everything
this is HIS coffee shop
the words repeat over and over
Coffee Shop
"where's Maxwell Smart?"
he asks "where is Maxwell House?"
everything happens in a coffee shop
everything