A Dream
In the dreamscape there were tents. Made of found wood and canvas tarps. Huge, man length snakes appeared on the sand. I wanted those scales on my body. Black and rainbow all at the…
Gypsy
The bag was flimsy. The cheap kind shopkeepers didn’t run a mental tally on before giving out. The plastic was so thin you could see your hand through it. It was the color of…
A Bukowski Styled Ode to Coffee
I’ve been reading a lot of Charles Bukowski lately. Not sure why it took till I was nearly 40 to discover this writer. In the last 6 weeks, I’ve read each of his novels…
On Aging
Today I saw my face for the reality it was. Creased, and lined, and peeling around the edges like a Victorian lady whose paint had faded long ago. What had I become? Not a shadow,…
On Writing
When they open the fire hydrant in the summertime with a wrench and nothing more, a torrent of water spews forth. It floods the asphalt turning it the color of a swimming pool at midnight. Once…