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DREAMING OF FLIGHT
As a child I, like so many others,imagined we might have wingsand could take flight at will, unrestrainedby gravity or parents, a freedomboth denied us: for our own goodthe parents said, silently by gravity.We would look at the sky, the clouds,the birds cavorting without seeming careas we were called in for homework,piano practice, household chores.Now…
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A HAUNTING
The ghosts that haunt my dreamsspeak in many languages, eachfamiliar, twisted deep inside me.I cannot answer for they do not listen,say they do not know me, know me well.I want to sit, to talk with each in turnbut I have no voice they can hearchoked off by cruel Morpheuswho only releases his grip oncethey have…
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RIDING A TIDAL WAVE
For how long had he been staring?He didn’t know, didn’t need to,time had ceased to matter,carried off on the gravitational tide.He had been walking for daysto get to this place, each stepa new beginning, each going nowhere.He knew he might seek solace here,knew he could never leave,here, now, was his ancestral home.There was a succulence…
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OBSERVING
He stood alone, a stoic observerin the midst of the maelstrom,deaf to the cacophony,bathed in a golden silence.This was not a gin dream, hehad let go of alcohol and drugsfor they crowded his thoughts,forced them into places henever wanted to be, his dreamsonce his holy salvation and hea penitent to Saint Morpheus, whopromised him freedom,…
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BEING A PART
He wanted, most of all, to bea part of something, butsomething that had never existed,a dissonance in an orderly universethat was slowly devolving into chaos.He was a shadow, seen only by dayand often ignored, not invisible, but nearly so.He would soon emerge from the darkness,welcome the day, the sun’s too briefappearance, his footsteps would echoa…
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BY MOONLIGHT
We are waiting patiently, for thatis what you have demanded.We have seized your promises, held themdear, we have done your biddingwithout question, without objection, and stillin our moment of need you dessert us.You have turned your face awayfrom us, refused to cast your eyeson us, you hide when we most need youand all too often…
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SISTER
I can picture her sittingin her small apartmentholding a cup of tea.This is Parma, or perhaps,Milan, two of the threecities I visited in Italy.Her hair is long, grayand white, her smile pained.She does not know I existbut we share so much,a father we never metfirst and foremost.We will never meet,for she, too, may be dead…
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MISSED MEETING
On Saturday it will be21 years since I missedthe last chance to meet my mother.If this seems strange to youimagine how it is for me, how itit is to have your mother dieat 82 and you now 70saying you never got to meet.You’ve guessed correctly that Iam an adoptee, but did you knowI waited so…
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LUNA WAITS
Awake in the middle of the nightat an undetermined hour,the analog clock invisiblein the darkened bedroom,I glanced out between the slatsof the window shade and watchthe waning moon play hideand seek with clouds that promiseneeded rain and then decidedwe weren’t worthy of their effort.Mars sat nearby doing nothing,that itself a commentary of sorts.I crawled back…
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LET LIE
A friend once told meto write down my dreamsfor they are a window intothe deepest corners of the psyche.Nevermind that much of the timeI cannot begin to remembermy dreams once awake,but those corners were darkfor a reason, and sheddinglight into them will onlycause the creatures who live thereto scurry about and seek shelterin other hidden…
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an old writer and his words 