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Words rarely do what I want.
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Prayers

P

Prayers

The call singsongs over the loudspeakers, blanketing Old Delhi. We shuffle towards it through the afternoon haze. A weathered metal detector chimes as we pass. No one seems to notice. As we crest the red stone steps, they tell us, "Only Muslims," and point to a sign in English listing prayer times for the Jama Masjid. We crowd into the shade with the women and the unfaithful. The mosque grows quiet. I take a seat and watch a man root around inside another's ear with a metal instrument. Down below, a handful of kids play with an abused cricket bat and a hollow plastic ball. The leader smacks one over a tall fence and has to monk
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Prayers

P

Prayers

The call singsongs over the loudspeakers, blanketing Old Delhi. We shuffle towards it through the afternoon haze. A weathered metal detector chimes as we pass. No one seems to notice. As we crest the red stone steps, they tell us, "Only Muslims," and point to a sign in English listing prayer times for the Jama Masjid. We crowd into the shade with the women and the unfaithful. The mosque grows quiet. I take a seat and watch a man root around inside another's ear with a metal instrument. Down below, a handful of kids play with an abused cricket bat and a hollow plastic ball. The leader smacks one over a tall fence and has to monk

Expecting

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Expecting

Expecting three houses down, the neighbor boy's soft spot has fused together too soon. now his brain has no room to grow. I cannot allow my mind to dwell the daughter of a guy I work with has Down syndrome, an immortal toddler. her nose runs; she watches cartoons. they have a special guard on the front doorknob. I cannot allow my mind to dwell my half-brother's adopted daughter was born with spina bifida. she wears special braces on her ankles to help her walk. she suffers operation after operation, but the doctors are certain: one day the cord will simply stretch too taut. I cannot allow my mind our first was born

Prayers

P

Prayers

The call singsongs over the loudspeakers, blanketing Old Delhi. We shuffle towards it through the afternoon haze. A weathered metal detector chimes as we pass. No one seems to notice. As we crest the red stone steps, they tell us, "Only Muslims," and point to a sign in English listing prayer times for the Jama Masjid. We crowd into the shade with the women and the unfaithful. The mosque grows quiet. I take a seat and watch a man root around inside another's ear with a metal instrument. Down below, a handful of kids play with an abused cricket bat and a hollow plastic ball. The leader smacks one over a tall fence and has to monk

One Afternoon

O

One Afternoon

One Afternoon A bunch of us boys on the Gonzaga in Florence program cruised into Antonio’s Café. Toni sold espresso, panini, and snacks. The place had an upstairs and shelves and shelves of liqueurs. His sandwiches were cheap and good. Ciao, Toni! Then one of us saw it. We sensed the change. All turned as a gorgeous young woman rolled by behind the wheel of a cherry Italian sportscar. The sunshine made it perfect. And then Toni: Che macchina! We all laughed like hell. It amazes me that the guy who owned that thing ever let it out of his sight.

Composition

C

Composition

Composition There is almost nothing of life left in me. I spasm like a broken wasp, like a headless samurai. As openings go, I could do worse. You respond, tell me about someone we knew from high school, how you write him letters in longhand, the way you once wrote to me. You converse about your shared love of music. And I know. I conceive of how I could still play your piano forte, how I could make your guts vibrate. I could find the key. I have spent so long practicing. Theory is not enough. I tune my instrument and bang out a few notes.

The Instinct of Cells

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The Instinct of Cells

The Instinct of Cells beauty softens each of us like an egg soaking in vinegar, but I have always been soft, soft as baby fuzz, a flabby soul stuffed into my skin like sausage meat inside a hog casing. I have no idea what it’s like to have to kill, to jump out of an airplane, to learn I have cancer. I spray lavender-vanilla mist on my pillow to help myself sleep. the hardest thing in my life was when my dad died. they tattooed little dots on his head to help them aim their rays. his hair started to fall out. luckily, he didn’t have much to lose. I correspond over the Internet with a young woman in England. she

Biology

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Biology

Biology They didn’t teach us anything important in high school. I remember you, negotiating with your back to the class in those giant 80s glasses, as the teacher took a break from his boy’s own stories of pissing tigers and Vietnamese cobras swaying in the tall grass to expose himself: Being beautiful isn’t enough to get you through life, sweetheart. Now at his age, I sit in front of my laptop at an upscale bar and lay you open over a California roll, chicken tortilla soup, and coffee with cream: It seemed like life would be easy for you. Has it been? You reply that you were in your twenties before you started

Spotlight

Lifeblood - page 1

17Comments
  • Oct 30
  • United States
  • Deviant for 15 years
  • He / Him
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Devious Journal Entry

Devious Journal Entry

Thank you for all of the comments and favorites and adds. I'm sorry I haven't been more active lately. Life continues to take its toll. And thank you, nycterent (https://www.deviantart.com/nycterent), for featuring my poem: http://fav.me/d2asp9f . I appreciate the all the attention. I'll be heading back to India in a couple of days, a shorter trip this time. Drop me a line if you get a moment. ~Michael

Clearing Out the Cobwebs

Clearing Out the Cobwebs

I have around 1,500 deviations that want me to look at them. If you have something you'd like me to comment on, please let me know. I may do some wholesale deleting at some point. I haven't written much this past year (or been online). I've been focusing on work (went to India twice, etc.) and relationships. Also, my novel-thing needed a rest and a new direction. Yes, I plan to finish it. Yes, it will be different than it was. As this year winds down, I'm starting to mess around with words again. I'm sure it will take a bit of time to knock the rust off, but I should have something to look at in due time. Hope everything is going well for

Stunned

Stunned

My brother-in-law died yesterday (my wife's sister's husband). I think he may have been 32. They were married a couple of years ago. No kids. I don't know why I'm mentioning it here. I guess it's the sort of thing you can't post on Facebook. The medical examiner said it was probably an aneurysm. Crazy. ~Michael

Comments 722

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Happy Birthday, Michael!
Happy Birthday, Michael!
Happy Birthday, Michael!
Happy Belated Birthday, Michael!
Happy Birthday, Michael!
Happy Birthday!
Happy Birthday!