-
DREAM ON
Good night, Sisyphustry and get some sleep.It’s been a long dayand you already knowthe rock will await youwhen you arise in the morning.I suppose by nowyou’ve come to realizethere is no percentagein irritating the Gods.Think of this as a personalreeducation centerwhere right thinkingis the lesson of thisand every other day.Did you really thinkthey would let…
-
OUR SONGS
Each morning between fourand five AM the cat comesto the bedroom door, the gatewayto the one room she is deniedand for five or ten minutessings her songs which I,on the now rocky shore of sleep,imagine as a lullaby.She cannot expect me to respondbut each morning it isthe same, the songs differ,and when I finally ariseand…
-
A PLEASURE
The phone rang as I stepped from the shower. Soon dry, I listened to the voice of my neighbor saying a long slithery snake was crawling up my gutter’s downspout. This I had to see and I did, phone camera in hand. He was about four feet long, kinked and moving slowly. He studied me,…
-
JUST STOP
“The problem,” she said, “the reasonyou cannot sleep through the night,is simple and easily fixed if youonly follow my advice for which,as you know, you are paying dearly.”This was what I had been waitingto hear after so many therapy sessions.I begged her to go on, thinking whatI would do with the money Ihad been spending…
-
NO THANKS
Living now in a city that is not a cityby any commonly accepted definition, onewith no downtown, only a vast suburbansameness, strip plaza after strip plaza,I realize why I could never live in a citylike New York, why I am glad I decidedhalf a century ago to forego the cachetof being part of a self-prestigious…
-
MORNING SONG (Awdl Gywydd)
The sun creeps down city streetsdew retreats from the grassesand fills the air, with sweet scentuntil spent, the bus passes. The robin sits in the treeas worms flee into the lawn.The morning foretells the rainthat will slowly drain the dawn. The city quietly wakesand stretching, shakes off the sleepit slowly comes back to life,the sun…
-
VISITORS
As much as he needed sleephe had grown to dread itfor each night they visited him,always whispering, he strainingto hear if they had wisdom to offeror were simply there to mock,to plague him, as recompense for someimagined sin, some innocent mistakeor simply because eternity canfairly quickly become boring.He knows their number willonly grow over time…
-
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…
-
A DEPARTURE
The sun is departing, sayingfarewell to a day wecan no longer reclaim, lostto history, to our inaction, inattention.We will try and remember it,cling to moments from it,but we know they are illusionsbest left in a past already departed.The stars will peer throughthe flowing clouds, winkingas if we are to guess their secrets,and soon the moon…
-
YOU ODE ME ONE
I should write an ode to my catbut she claims all of the good oneshave already been written and shewould not settle for less than the best.She says I could write an odeto the television remote or eventhe microwave oven, but I noteto her that an ode is to someone,something worthy, beneficialand she nods in…
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
an old writer and his words 