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MAGIC, ONCE
As a child he had a magical power. He didn’t like to use it, didn’t want others to know he had it, certainly couldn’t share it. He wasn’t certain when it began to fade, but he noticed the power diminished as he grew, as he learned more about the world, and there was absolutely nothing…
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FALLING
I stumbled in love with you, she said, because I’ve always had this great fear of falling. It must come from my childhood though I can’t recall any specific incident, just the deep bruises my parents left when they fell, without warning, out of the love I thought had to last forever.
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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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THIRD EYE, NEEDING GLASSES
You ask me what is the first thing I can remember, and seem surprised when I tell you memory is much like a Buddhist river, never the same twice. Memory is a stage and I am one to forget my lines, today it’s the window in the back of a Miami Beach bus amazed at…
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REALITY RHYMES
Little Jack Horner sat in a corner suffering from a severe narcissistic personality disorder. Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he, until he died from a combination of cirrhosis of the liver and emphysema. Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet eating her curds and whey, and…
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AGELESS
He is still three, but he is not easily convinced of that fact. He says he is four, although with that certain smirk and a wink he admits his birthday is next week. He says he is practicing being four and it doesn’t seem all that hard. He says he has gotten so good at…
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PIANO LESSONS
Mrs. Schwarting was my piano teacher. At 12, my parents gave me a choice of lessons: piano or dance. I had two left feet. I chose piano. It did not move. My mother smiled at my choice. She knew what my decision would be before she asked. My mother was like that. Mrs. Schwarting was…
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FADED MEMORY
I want to paint O. Henry’s leaf on the wall outside my sister’s window. She won’t be able to see it for the giant maple that obscures her view. Even when it drops its leaves a few always cling in the neverland between green and mulch. And anyway, she says, her neck is always stiff,…
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an old writer and his words 