it was a weird night the wind moaning in the branches of trees silhouetted by a scant-full moon passover night when the blood ran and the wine flowed when the angel of death had turned his face away and we were saved memorial supper eaten, torch in hand we marched to the garden, well-earned rest…
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fragment | ii
“you know, i would never have taken you for the hard-boiled type.” “no one asked you to take me as anything.” “mm. can’t break eggs without ruffling a few feathers, i guess.” “what kind of a mixed metaphor is that?” “was it? i’d like to mix you a metaphor sometime. do you prefer yours shaken…
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“i am going to beat you with my slipper,” she said, and she meant it. yet all he did was laugh. he had seen her slippers, after all.
Read Morewalking home
squelch, squelch, squelch … i trudged along down the sidewalk, feeling the tide rise in my tennis shoes and my little toes going numb. with my hood pulled tight around my face to keep the rain out, i felt blinkered like a horse. with my blinders on, it’s all pretty good — i could take…
Read Morestormy, stormy night
i rearranged all the furniture in my room and now my desk is against the window so i can look out and see everything. it’s dark right now, but the cicadas are trying to sing amid the roar of the wind and the rumble of thunder. oh, and the funny noises the power substation two…
Read Morewasting | scene, somewhere
the clouds were gathering thickly; the thunderheads gleamed eerily from the early blue-black darkness of a stormy sky. it was summer again, early yet, but the city caught and held the heat until the tension was palpable and everyone longed for the storm to break. it had broken for her long before. she pushed back…
Read Moresilent spring
cold creeps in through the shutters and under the doors, caressing the floors i walk upon barefoot, half asleep, wandering uncertainly while i wonder when this undecided season will finally make up her mind and stop playing cat-and-mouse with the flowers and the frost. but i have wondered so many things that i never earned…
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inner dialogue
“psst. psst. psssssssssst! hello? hello? hello! look, i’m talking to you!” “i am quite aware of the fact, thank you.” “well, then why didn’t you answer?” “maybe i was thinking.” “pssh, that doesn’t give you the right to ignore people. you could at least…
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writing while driving
a couple of years ago i was driving home in the september dusk and darkness, toward the last dull glows of the sunset. the windows were down, the air was warm, i was blissfully happy … and i just started singing, without really knowing why or what about. that became this poem, with its own…
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“so i’m writing a song … “
“… and i’m getting a lot of work done.” — God help the girl, “stills“ (that song has nothing to do with this song, by the way. the lyric is a nice hook, though.) (by the way again, i’m not good at writing songs. at all. so don’t laugh. this is just the first draft.)…
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