In between here and there lies a place of quiet a place of no longer yearning for others' attention or affection or respect It's a place fully alive to absolutely everything in the universe that exists to know the mysterious workings of things It does not love or hate or boast of arrogance nor bow … Continue reading Quiet spaces
The Columbus Chronicles, episode 4 We can still smoke in the bar a relief for the reprobates Pretty soon the pine smell is obliterated and a blue haze floats just above our heads We've become animated, my barfly friends and me outside the sun creeps down the west side of the street and brightens … Continue reading Who even knows the mystery?
This is the third piece in the series "The Columbus Chronicles" The guy on my left a couple of stools away smells like aftershave, the strong and cheap kind that comes in a pickle bucket. He apparently bathes in it. Not as bad as what I imagine the little guy on his left smells … Continue reading The mystery continues
The Columbus Chronicles At 6 am I watch them, the men, one woman They stand on the sidewalk in front of the alcove and they don't talk much but their bowed heads and their shuffling feet, cigarettes puffed quickly, speak to not who they are but what they are They are thirsty They are anticipating … Continue reading Touch the mystery
Don't mind me--it's just another day to avoid reflection, to engage in deflection not answer the phone or check the mail, because it's just another day of the same questions over and over from the same faceless drone in an office 200 miles away, getting cocky with impatience It's not my fault you don't know … Continue reading Talking to the walls
The house grew dark, heavy with portents and omens Not a breath of air stirred outside in the descending gloom a pause, a holding of the world's breath Thunder marched with cannon booms from thirty miles out, then twenty miles out and then it was on top of the house, descending with a majestic roar … Continue reading Storm
a gauze of memory wraps my day in a warm cocoon when it gets too shitty outside to keep putting up with shit I remember how the sun coming through the oak leaves made bright splashes on the grass and how they would disappear like magic when clouds floated by I remember the oozing mud … Continue reading April showers