Haven’t ridden my motorcycle in a while. December in Wisconsin, right, but this global warming thing is way out of line and if they say Bad and I say Ride, then maybe while I do they’ll get this whole break figured out. Meanwhile you go your way and I’ll go mine and get where I’m…
There is a woman who works cleaning tables, not serving tables, nothing so glamorous as giving people food. No. Only garbage, trash and liquids cold and heavy carafes of lukewarm coffee grace her hands. Yet she cut her hair off her splendid hair to give to those with cancer, donated her glory to bring joy…
The water and the sun upon the water, the wind from the same quarter and the sky, the blue sky allure me to believe the same time endures between you and I, but that is only me for had I known you lay with him when last I thought you loved me here and now…
You don’t have sixteen thousand five hundred and sixty eight friends. Neither do I. You and I aren’t friends if you need sixteen thousand five hundred and sixty eight strangers between us before you share a word of yours with me or receive a word of mine. It isn’t social. It’s impersonal. If it’s impersonal…
What happened to you? The black horn rimmed glasses, the formless striped pullover, the wedding ring I would have thought you’d wear, the weight I see you’ve gained beneath your fidgeting fingers, what happened to you? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have cared. It would have made a difference, because I do, still…
It isn’t so much they’ve gerrymandered districts so no one they don’t like can get elected. It isn’t so much they’re willing to indebt taxpayers to insure corporate profitability, and It isn’t so much they’re willing to invalidate or eradicate laws made by the people to protect the people or amend the law to defeat…
Why will you not come to me. My longing is so great. Does no one hear in this world or in the beyond? What hollow need is left for me to stroke within my soul? What troubled thoughts lie uncomforted? It is not right of You, oh God of love to be so thoughtless in…
I went to a meeting. They read a letter. A member of the club went to the American Cemetery outside Manila to find the grave of his uncle. They found the grave and wrote a letter addressed to the club. It told of a twenty-three year old soldier in World War Two, captured on the…
It isn’t for everyone. Some people spend lots of money and it isn’t for sale. In fact, you get it when you can’t afford it and walk away. That starts the process, the long, slow grind of authenticity. When you come back with the money and you still can’t afford it because the price has…
