“Are you a writer?” asked the woman in the park. She’d seen my yellow field bag with the Ray Bradbury quote: You must stay drunk on writing so that reality cannot destroy you. “I like to write,” I equivocated. It was my standard answer. It was true, after all, and got me out of committing to … Continue reading Evolution
Nights like this, I sleep naked, seeking relief in the coolness of empty sheets. I wake to the droning of cicadas, the yearning for rain, the ache of desire and the taste of your name in my mouth.
Sometimes, we forget our words. Sometimes, we don’t remember how to mourn. Silence stands between us, a leviathan of unspoken grief. We linger in its shadow, waiting for the delicate whisper of rain.
I didn’t know what I was expecting when I broke into Grandma Marie’s old house with my girlfriend, but the man falling out of a hole in thin air to land at our feet wasn’t it. "Look, man, I'm sorry, we thought the place was empty." It sounds inane. No, mundane, like men fall at … Continue reading Curtain
Before sunset, I light a fire. Word after word I feed into the flames. Words like stay, and more, and please. The air is full of them: embers striving to be stars. I feed your name into the fire as well, every syllable a promise. The trees thrust grasping fingers into the sky to draw … Continue reading Under the reaching pines