He fills it up with the love of a girl, renewed, skinned knee, wasn’t she so pretty, almost in pigtails but the skirt was filled out too well, a women in sheep’s clothing, vicious bite, he enjoyed it, the deception, he would have to admit it, the plethora of scars were proof, even when he walked away, beaten and bruised, he thought of her tenderly, a newly fashiond scab to be picked and revealed, renewed wound for the road ahead.
Category Archives: words
After The Rain, con’t
Mel opens the door, umbrella stupidily still in his grip. It was a habit that annoyed her, carrying it to the mud room before the back porch. The irony was of course that when they bought the house she insisted on the laundry room that was originally there be converted into one. “Just imagine,” she would argue, “the children dropping off their golashes and raincoats there and their soft socked feet prisitne while they scattered about.” Slowly he descended the staircase.
Where were the children?
After The Rain, con't
Mel opens the door, umbrella stupidily still in his grip. It was a habit that annoyed her, carrying it to the mud room before the back porch. The irony was of course that when they bought the house she insisted on the laundry room that was originally there be converted into one. “Just imagine,” she would argue, “the children dropping off their golashes and raincoats there and their soft socked feet prisitne while they scattered about.” Slowly he descended the staircase.
Where were the children?
ubermensch
You need to do the things that sustain you, that surpass you: if not at work, then everything else. Read everything, study, go beyond, be beyond, allow yourself to grow out of the expectations of your place. Explore, write, listen, reach. You have arms boy for a reason: they are meant to grasp as well as throw away.
intermission
Days go by and not a word. No, that is not true, always words, incessantly, mantras, ghosts, whispers, in my head, always, I am never alone, always speaking, listening but hardly writing. Letting the body rest, feeding the soul.
after the rain
He had come in, the house was dark, empty, still. Where were the children?
Sopping wet on the wood floor, squishing across the hallway into the dining room. His umbrella was still in his hand, much good it did him. He could barely make out the garage door when he turned into the driveway. Still he could hear, like a ringing in his ears, the insistent drum of the rain against the roof.
Where were the children?
Rain off his chin, “Hello? Jonathan? Caitlin?”
Not even Molly, his ex wife’s german shepherd, with her lame leg and half bitten ear. He used kick the dog when the neighbor’s weren’t looking. Now, over the years, particularly this summer he had grown attached to the mongrel, almost found her regal. From the dining room he could see into the pantry where they had set her bowl, full and untouched.
Where were the children?
Often driving home through the seasonal thundertorms that ripped through Newport he thought of her, her ability to turn from lover to ghoul in an instant.
touch down
what i write is never what i read only a broken influence, a misinterpretation, a misrepresentations of events. she scarred me. she healed me. i sat languorously on the edge and watched it all happen. or rather, i did everything and they watched me from the sidelines with bated breath, hands to their chests, clasped in the hopes i might turn in their direction. but al i saw was the field and a never ending sprint that i could not finished. she sighed. she mocked. i tripped. i stumbled. on my knees i let go of everything and found i had it all.
the zoo
what did we do yesterday?
went to the zoo.
what did we see?
an orangutan eat penguin. a child kick a peacock. a mother nurse a lamb.
what did we see?
you have lived
in my youth i would look at pictures, i would weep for the child i had been, i would stare and my gaze would become muddled and burred, from despair i would beg “what happened to you?”
and i was reminded again of it, but this time, this time the child had answer, i begged him again the question “what happened to you?”
and he replied, “you lived.”
simple and true, i am nothing without the distance, i have seen, i have loved, i have despaired, i have danced, i have written, i have gone, i have betrayed, i have been betrayed, i have been loved, i have been abandoned, and all of it precious, all this accumulation, all these markers on a very long journey.
i’d rather have traveled the world than to remain.
in peace
“If you can’t stand in place, you can’t tell who’s walking away”
-death cab for cutie, “pity and fear”
Redolent, dressed in blood red, beautiful skin fresh and pale, the cut of her smile and eyes eager. No one would think, no one would believe I had it in me to garnish such beauty, that I would be this lucky. That somehow in almost breaking her we would come out the other side into the very peace I thought I had leave everything to find.