• MORTALITY

    Before you wish for immortality carefully consider all the consequences. It’s true you will avoid the fires of hell and the lawyers and politicians who make up a surprising portion of the populace, but you’ll also never pass through the pearly gates, to languish in the esteemed company of poets and musicians who will, at…


  • TRUE MEANING

    The iguana sits in the tree and stares at me. It isn’t clear whether he is daring me to climb the tree, knowing that I like most humans well into middle age are incapable of the task, or merely showing off, appreciative of an audience. A little child walking by points to the iguana, says,…


  • TUESDAYS ONLY

    Everything important, he declared, should happen on a Tuesday. Wednesday, he explained, was saddled with a deep burden of middleness, rendering it unfit for much else. Friday simply couldn’t be trusted, since five o’clock everywhere came earlier and earlier each year it seemed. The weekend was for battling Sabbaths and there would be no winners…


  • INCEPTION

    Morning arrived as usual today and we shook ourselves slowly from sleep to greet it. As we rose and drew open the curtains and blinds all that morning had to say, and said rather imperiously was “where is the coffee — you can’t expect a damn thing from me until I’ve had at least two…


  • IMPENDING DEPARTURE

    I will be going soon and this is what I would leave you: I would leave you my dreams of a world at peace, where compassion comes as an expectation not a surprise, a place where the arrival of the sun is a source of joy for with it and the rains, you, no one,…


  • MORNING

    Each morning she looks at the small window in her bedroom, just after the sun has broken the horizon and the lake is set ablaze. Each morning she sees the small boat, its oars resting on the gunwale, dark against the orange water. She never asks how the boat got there, why it stays there,…


  • THE DAY AFTER*

    Today we only speak silently and know everyone hears. Today we cry only dry tears, and others gently wipe our eyes. Today we mourn what we fear is lost and together vow to retain it. Today the sun shines less brightly and we know the dark cloud will eventually pass. Today we hug, each to…


  • AFTER

    He sits still demanding your attention. He stares at you with green eyes and a defiant look, saying you are a visitor here, this is our world so do not abuse your privilege of sharing this space with us. We were here long before you arrived and our kind will be here long after you…


  • MIA

    Each morning, as he went out on his walk, he would check the street light pole just down his block. He would carefully read the missing cat and dog posters, pause to think whether he might have seen any of the missing animals. He often wondered how many had been found, the missing notices left…


  • TMI

    He lived in a world of acronyms. He hated them. He knew they were ubiquitous and becoming more so. Modern discourse, some said, couldn’t happen without them, since modern discourse didn’t involve people speaking words, but devices interacting. Though how a PDA could be LMAO was beyond him. Still he knew all about FIFO and…