There is a man who places linen and silverware on tables. He places linen and silverware on tables. That is what he does where people sit and eat. They spoil the linen and soil the silverware and they leave. This man removes once crisp linen and not too long ago spotless silverware and once again…
Remember all those throes upon the slanting deck. Place yourself where you are placed by destiny and behold the craven acts of others, the heroics of some and take your measure upon the stage about to sink beneath your feet. Strike out, survive and live to tell what life meant when life sank unsinkable below…
Tell your people you love them. Once long ago I rode through the night and the radio brought me this message in a song. Dvorak’s Song to the Moon from the opera Rusalka. I cannot play it for you here, but when I heard it then the message came clear. Tell your people you love…
There I sat, waiting for the light, absorbed in me. Oh the thoughts, the uninvited guests to my morbid feast, the unwelcome sons of bitches that have spoiled so many parties I’ve tried to throw, the bullies of my soul. I looked up and realized the light had gone to yellow. That means I stopped…
Old friends, the time has come for us to part. I’ve worn you out, for all the times I’ve worn you out there working. Toes scuffed down to safety steel. Paint splattered on your desiccated uppers. How many laces did I break? Soles worn through completely like mine from time to time and me still…
I come to where I started, ‘neath night and day travailed between the stars and earth, a birth canal of freedom into a world known only to the Maker and to me. I stand now where I started upon bended knee, not in subjugation, but in homage to all I’ve seen. This line, this commencement,…
They all stare down and twiddle their thumbs, tap with their fingers and bow their heads in prayerful homage to the screens they hold, the little electric heart and souls of existence. I hold my book, my silent paginated friend, all energy within and no batteries or power cord required. I prefer the leather and…
It lies there before me. The road home where I have been and never been before. The path to adventure, wonderment and glory where I know every inch and footfall and lead habitual ways. It lies there before me on a globe so vast I reach where I began, yet always new, like love, like…
“Enjoying the sun?” “Yes sir, I am.” Moments before I saw a barren tree adorned with a single star, atop the otherwise barren branches. There I sat, a calm day, a reason to rest and Christmas as it were blazing devoid of any other ornamentation. We spoil ourselves with decorations, tinsel and lights and then…
Ever notice? Wind chimes beneath the eaves resemble icicles on this winter day. In a burst of enthusiasm, you know, artistic fervor and all that I went and took a whack at the icicles, thinking they might yield a version of aeolian harp, albeit frozen and sound like wind chimes. Just my luck. They merely…
