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PHOENIX
A Phoenix may rise from the ashes, but you and I have seen the aftermath of the flames and all that rises are our memories and dreams. We lack both wings and a certain amount of faith, for ashes are all that is promised and in the end we are no more than dust avoiding…
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HAWKING SANITY
I am not the least bit certain why the red-tailed hawk chose that lamppost that day and peered down over the Expressway. Nature has her own logic and we question it at our own risk. Staring into his flaming eyes, for one small moment we both saw the foolishness rolling by below and alongside us.
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THEN
Before the after now is present. It was never like this before, it will not be again anytime soon, for there is no time soon that has yet to be or just gone by. After the before we find ourselves here and now.
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DAWNING DREAM
In the morning the sun will reach through our window and draw us out of sleep. Some mornings it sneaks through the clouds which it pushes aside, only to retreat again when we reach out and try to grasp it. It is the sun’s caress we crave, the promise of a lover yet unmet,…
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WITH EYES WIDE CLOSED
Between this moment and the next lies an unbridgeable gulf that the mind leaps with great ease, never looking back, or down into the abyss. It is only when the body stops, tries to grasp the space between, that everything collapses and falls into itself until all that is left is improbability.
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THE SHORE
The sea steals the edge of the shore, replacing it with something familiar and yet different. It is much the same with the waves of sleep that lap at my dreams leaving fractured memories and holes left to fill with desire and imagination. Walking along the shore of dawn and awakening, I feel time creep…
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WHEN OR IF
In a clockless world all life is an approximation and clear boundaries evaporate like the mist off a morning pond. In that world this moment seeps into the next, night becomes day, only to return again. The Buddha knew this for in his clockless world all that existed was this moment an instant that was,…
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OF DREAMS AND DREAMERS
The morphology of dreams is partially reliant on the whims of a single god, and Morpheus is, to say the least, a truly fickle bastard who dangles before us joy and nightmare each always just out of reach, but never out of sight or hearing. So we are left to grasp like marionettes operated…
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DAYS OF FUTURE PAST
They say, “there will come a day,” but I have no idea who they might be, and why today is not the day since it came and even they had to notice it’s sudden arrival. But that’s the problem, for “will come” is in the future and the future offers only tomorrows.
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THE DEPTH OF MEMORY
In deeply hidden corners of my memory snapshots of my childhood reappear from forgotten albums. I want to know what was happening just out of frame, or in the next picture in the series but these negatives are lost and so I am left to draw my own pictures, write my own story, and accept…
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an old writer and his words 