“Each day the storm clouds were opening like great purple flowers and pouring out their dark thunder. Each nightfall, the storm was laid down on their houses like a burden the day had carried.” — Eudora Welty (The Wide Net And Other Stories) Continue reading Storm Clouds
In hurricane mode your life becomes an altered reality in which time has no meaning or substance. You’re stuck in a no-man’s land of howling winds, horizontal rain torrents and the pops and creaks of a storm-stressed house. The world outside the storm zone turns on but you’re inside a cocoon of stomach churning anxiety, uncertain of your next hour. After the storm passes, you enter a state of pure exhaustion from days of running on adrenaline and wait for the Gods of Electricity to favor you with power and a return to the normal little life you see … Continue reading New Eyes
On Delaronde street sweat runs beneath 200 year old oaks and between breasts, over gnarly roots and down the curve of a belly. Words of love, a melody in French, weave through the plumbago screen hiding a pristine white gallery and wafts on down the street, fading into the distant sounds of river traffic. Laughter crackles with the clink of glasses leaking from behind wrought iron, amid the slightly rustling palmettos. Fans and pages turn, sun tanned legs stretch out. The day dissolves into evening. Time to light the candles and pour the wine. _____________________________________ Shared on dVerse Poets Pub. … Continue reading Another Day On Delaronde
I waited by the gate where we’d planned to meet, leaning against the metal barricade hot in the sun as sweaty arms and legs brushed by to get closer to the stage. Robert Cray was jamming, sweat dripping down his face while his mouth worked, chewing on lyrics like he was eating barbeque with a kick, fingers picking that guitar clean, leaving bare bones where meat used to be. I saw you coming, walking fast like you had somewhere to be, eyes focused on the roped off area behind the stage, guarded by a big man in red with shifty … Continue reading Hanging With the Cool
I never said forever. That’s a time continuum I can’t comprehend in a world too tightly bound by years. Today is my commorancy, my roots are in this moment and each one that follows, as it exists. The long tunnel into the future is too narrow, I will not be stuck there. Take my hand, look into my eyes and feel the fresh air on our skin. Now. _____________________________________ Shared with dVerse Poets Pub. Continue reading An Aerial View
“In a sense, that beginner’s mind is what we must come back to every time we sit down and write. There is no security, no assurance that because we wrote something good two months ago, we will do it again.” – Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones Continue reading
You walked a golden path and I was in front beating the bushes for hidden dangers, eyes darting left and right, a force field of high alert with the tingle of anticipation stiffening my spine. Behind, your face radiated the beatific smile of the innocent ignorant, the birthright of The Golden, of the ones who know nothing of terror, spite or shame, but see only through eyes of sunlight. At the end, we were both too blind —- I by suspicion, you by trust —- to see the tip of a cloven hoof at the bottom of the door. Continue reading Dark/Light
We watched for the return of the birds. The air around the house was silent and devoid of flutterings, a vacuum of tweets and whistles. What straggling flowers were left went hummingbirdless while twigs and string were just twigs and string with no hope of sheltering featherless offspring. It was strangely quiet, as though they were all sucked into a void somewhere and became dinosaurs again in another dimension. Kind of like our love, they were a wondrous memory for a time until slowly finding their way back home. Continue reading Wingless
I want to listen to the wind. I turn off the lamp and snuggle in my bed underneath an extra blanket, my feet warm in socks that go abandoned in summer. I wriggle my toes against the enclosed softness and watch the shadows of the palms sway behind the curtains. All is still save for the swishing of the wind and the wriggling of my toes. Continue reading Cold Front
Nothing in common brought us together. I remember the first night we slipped away, heating up like strong coffee on the stove, simmering slowly, in wait for the sweetness of sugar. Continue reading Sanguine
