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TO BE
He had wondered what it would be liketo be a Buddha, I mean, he thought, doBuddhas know they are Buddhas ordoes someone have to tell them, andif so, how does that person knowthat this person must be a Buddha?He wasn’t sure he wanted to becomea Buddha since no one could explainwhat possible benefit there would…
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SUZY
What do you sayon the loss of a child?We sat in the loungedrinking a vile potionfrom a hollowed pineapple,giggling insanelyfor no reason.We wandered the tunnelsfaces painted,clowns in bedlam.We lay togetheron a mattresson the floor and listenedto Aqualungmy arms around youboth, but sleepcame slowly and we talkeduntil night ran fromthe encroaching sun. I can feel her…
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ONCE, AGAIN
His mind was dancingwhile his feet were firmly anchoredto the unyielding ground.It has long been this wayhis mind demanding a freedomhis body is incapable of granting.But in his dreams his body hasinfinite flexibility, can moveas the mind needs only to imagine.those moments of freedom, he knowswill depart when the day once againimprisons him, locking himin…
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THE OTHER WORLD
He pendulated between two worlds,always on the fine edge of transition.Night brought amniotic dreamsthat washed away the digital bondsthe day had fashioned from his thoughts.Here was a freedom that reality detested.Here there were no walls, only open doorsand he could freely wander his psychewithout impediments, without that voicethat was always perched on the razor’sedge of…
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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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A HAUNTING
The ghosts that haunt my dreamsspeak in many languages, eachfamiliar, twisted deep inside me.I cannot answer for they do not listen,say they do not know me, know me well.I want to sit, to talk with each in turnbut I have no voice they can hearchoked off by cruel Morpheuswho only releases his grip oncethey have…
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OBSERVING
He stood alone, a stoic observerin the midst of the maelstrom,deaf to the cacophony,bathed in a golden silence.This was not a gin dream, hehad let go of alcohol and drugsfor they crowded his thoughts,forced them into places henever wanted to be, his dreamsonce his holy salvation and hea penitent to Saint Morpheus, whopromised him freedom,…
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THE KEY
“The key,” he said, “is to imbueyour work with poetic energy.”Those of us still botheringto pay attention at allto that empty husk of a oncewell-regarded, honored poethad no freaking idea whatthe hell he was talking aboutand we guessed he didn’t either.He was an easy A English courseand a few of us imagined ourselvesas successful writers,…
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A FAREWELL VISIT
My mother no longer visits mein my dreams, actuallyneither does for I’ve had two,the advantage or is itdisadvantage of the adoptee.None of my three fathersever paid a postmortem visit.It complicates things when allI know of my birth mother isfrom a college yearbook photo,but that is how she looked in thosefew visits after I discovered her.The…
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HOME AGAIN
You can go home againdespite what the author saidbut home won’t be home anymoreso perhaps the author was right.It used to be a little used beltwaystrangling the already smalldowntown, a sunken dream ofsome city planner with myopia.Now they have filled that inand lined it with apartments;here an array of identical, stacked boxes,the blocks of an…
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an old writer and his words 