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HORIZON
He was always lookingto the horizon, as if tomorrowwould provide some small hintof what was to come, knowingthe shadows of yesterday wouldalways be trailing behind him, hisalbatross of unfulfilled dreams.He knew it was a futile searchthat he was wasting his presentfor a future that would arrive on its terms,but compulsions were things hehad been powerless…
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CAMERA OBSCURED
People stand in awelooking at what Ansel Adams’camera saw on those magical days.I am an outlier, for althoughI am struck by the beautyHis photographs offer my eyes,the stark play of light and dark,how shadows define a world,that is not what I wishthat I could see, for I wantnothing more than to seewhat Ansel Adams sawwith…
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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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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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STILL WAITING
We have been waiting for herbut she is again reluctant to appearand this night chooses to hidebehind a veil of gossamer clouds.How often has she turned her back on us,allowing us only a passing glimpseand still we always await her, for sheis our inamorata and we feelsomehow incomplete in her absence.She know that she will…
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MORNING
The clocks have begrudginglyshifted again, the earlymorning lost in darknessbarely illuminated by a waning moon.The fronds of the Royal Palm’swhisper “we are here, waitfor us.” But they are mere shadowsbegging for dawn’s arrival.Finally the sun engulfs the starswatching over the horizon,the fronds say “look at me,I will give you an infinitepalette of green that will…
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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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an old writer and his words 