on the black asphalton the black asphaltmy footsteps leave no trace --a Roman milestone in the grass
a snow flake fallsa snow flake fallsinto the warmth of my hand –safe
the old citadelthe old citadelechoes with birdsong –a green forest
a white cata white catin my pathgood luck?
The full moonthe full moon —just another lightin a crowded sky
Just above the cloudsJust above the clouds,at 500 mph —the stars do not move
Grandma“Is there something terribly wrong with me?”I sigh and look up from my book. In the evening light my grandmother stares back at me, utterly unaware that it’s the third time she’s asked in as many minutes. Complex maps of wrinkles frame her wide eyes, each crease charting the grief, joy and laughter of a lifetime she is slowly forgetting. I look at her and I remember the wit and spark that used to punctuate her speech. I remember the way she used to strike up a conversation with anyone, anywhere; how she’d find wonder in the simplicity of everyday life. Her curiosity, her sense of adventure, her love of the world and of all the people in it have been replaced by a child-like fear of the unfamiliar.I look at my grandmother and behind her old, tired eyes I see a young girl who has lost hold of her mother’s hand in a world full of strangers.“No, Grandma. There’s nothing wrong with you at all.”curtains shift –the faint glowof
*Silence*Washing coffee mugsHouse is silent, family goneSink full of chatter.2014 Delice194121st August2014
Jack o'lanterntiny orange kittensmells of autumn splendor, sweetJack o'lantern secrets.
3 reasonsuniform daysseem precious now, beforedays in uniform.home is quietsave for whispers,muted prayers.sad occasion:son has come home,not in one piece.
Haikus from our happy daysLucky, my flower growsShe opens up in the Sun and ripens under the Moon.While my days wither - Chanceuse, ma fleur granditElle s'épanouit au Soleil et mûrit sous la Lune.Pendant que mes jours fanent -A laughter flew away,Grass still breathes out the dew of her birthAnd this red balloon...Un rire s'envola,L'herbe expire encore la rosée de sa naissance Et ce ballon rouge...Bombs shower down and fallFrightened by this din, there she rushes, rushes, the dragonfly!Autumn harvestLes bombes pleuvent et tombentEffrayée par le vacarme, elle court, court, la libellule !Moisson d'automne
Beholden truly a treasureloved one held, heart next to minenot merely in it
Statue SoberShe standsstatuesque,straight in sobriety--no longer a child, I'm stilllearning.
juggalo pledge""""I pledge allegiance, to the hatchet, of the Underground Juggalo Society, and to the Ninjas, for which it stands, one family, under clowns, full of freaks, with Faygo, and magic neden for all""
closeMy young son shuffles into our sunny kitchen on this late-spring morning. From my seat at the banquette, he is happily greeted with the customary, “Hey, man! Did you take some good dreams?” Sleepy-eyed, with that just-awakened stare, he nods as he scoots along the padded bench. Bear, his stuffed friend since infancy, is draped over his arm, limp and flat from several years of intense loving. He stretches out and plops his head into my lap, hair ruffled from his recent adventures in dreamland. Combing my fingers through it, lightly massaging his scalp, we wordlessly ease into the day. ‘like Eskimoses’we used to rub noseswill you remember?
dusty chessboarddusty chessboard the old master yieldsto his grandson