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MOON WATCH
I’m guessing it wasabout 2 AM, I can’t be suresince the only clockin the bedroom was analogand unlighted, visible only by day. I don’t know what woke me,it just seems to happen, but the moonwas peering in between the slatsof closed window blinds. I don’t like being watchedin my sleep, certainly notby some voyeuristic interloperbut…
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ONE WAY TICKET
He steps off the train. He looks around expecting her to be there. She said she would meet him. It is why he came. She does not answer her phone. As the night approaches, he gets a text message, waits patiently for the next train back to where he started. Appeared in 50 Word Stories,…
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PHONE HOME?
Perhaps we spend too muchtime wondering if there arealiens of the ET sort among us. Let’a face it, if they areadvanced enough to get here,they ought to be able to fit inwithout standing out, sosorry Hollywood, it may makefor an exciting movie butit just isn’t all that likely. And before you remind meof UFO sightings,…
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GOING
You know where you want to go,which is the first step in getting there,but there are countless routesyou can take with a varietyof obstacles which you cannot seeuntil you have committedto that route, and there is to beno turning back once you choosethe route you intend to take. Think about your selection,do you want the…
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MID MORNING SONG
He leans against the walloutside the Prêt à Mangerwitting with his dogon the old Mexican blanketsthat look uniquely out of placeon a cool London morning.He sips the now fetid coffeein its Styrofoam cup,its Burger King logoand temperature warning.His hair is long, mostlygray with streaks of white,his beard whitewith swaths of blond, helooks as though hejust…
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HARLECH CASTLE
I stood on the rampartsthat cold, wet morninglooking out over the waitingIrish Sea, this day offeringonly rain and a November chill. Write haiku, she said to usand I thought of Bashoand Issu who never stoodon a 13th Century Welshfortress and never imaginedwriting about Llywelyngreat or not nearly so. In the rain and chillI scribbled furiously,retreated…
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ARRHYTHMIA
Life ought be little more thanarrhythmic motion, a pathwe only want to straighten,to smooth, its natural, necessarytwists and bumps somehow,for we always see them asimpediments not momentsof joyous indecision wherethere are no wrong choicesfor each choice unfoldsa new path never trodden,never imagined or foreseen. A bird flies to where it needsto be, but for most…
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EN ROUTE
We spend so much of our livesimagining we are en route,always on the way to somewhereif often not certain where thatsomewhere might be. It seems we intensely dislikenot being in motion, not focusedon the future, the destination,never wanting to be, seemingto dread being static. Yet the irony is that we,at any given moment, arenever en…
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AFLOAT
I have taken tofolding my poemsinto little paper boatsand dropping gentlyinto the riverwhere they saildownstream. Many may drownbut some mayreach the lakeor be plucked outand reador discarded. The river is,in the end,my harshestcritic.
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EIRE
They say you must cherishyour memories lest they slipaway in the night, trying fora freedom you deny them. I remember Ireland, knowingit was home although at the timeI thought I was Ashkenaziand Portuguese, but my geneswere trying to tell me something. I remember driving a stickshift down narrow roads,always keeping in mindthe advice, “if you…
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an old writer and his words 