Tuesday, September 17, 2013

I sit in a room of hurt and water
I wash my pain as if I was a sinner
Baptize myself as if I was priest,
a Holy Man gently stroking my bleeding brow
I see no God
No Christ
No Budda
I wait and wait for No One
And No One waits for me
Just with this dry thirst, I sail away on a human river of blood and water

Sunday, September 15, 2013

A man in a black overcoat walks across the floor of a bar without a name. It is a quiet night, near closing time; just an old timer sits at table near the stale air of the men’s room. He mutters aimlessly to himself as he moves his hand slowly along a beer glass. He makes a fist and lets go with crooked, hurting fingers. The music had died an hour ago. The kitchen is silent.

The man in the overcoat stands across from the bartender. From his pocket he pulls four photographs and lays the black and white prints across the oak bar top.

He says: “They’re all gone.”

“Dead.” The bartender grunts.

“Yes. What can you do about it?”

 “Nothing. Ask God.”

The stranger lifts the photos and places them in his pocket. As he walks back across the floor he hears the old man stammer ”Nnn..othing ..Nothing. Nobody can do nothing.”

The man in the overcoat makes a fist in his pocket and opens his hand against the photos. Lately his fingers have been hurting. He wonders aloud if soon he will sit in a bar and curse his muttering God. The old man says nothing. The bartender whistles lowly.

Monday, September 2, 2013

I'm drifting, I'm drifting
As silence in a summer breeze
To hear the laughter of clapping leaves
I drift in silence
To the dying
I drift in silence
To the end of my mortal self
I drift in silence
Then I hear nothing
Do I return as the laughter in clapping leaves?

Sunday, May 5, 2013

The heart is my sullen beast that consumes me in sadness. But I will return. I will free myself of its grip and slay it. And speak of it no more as the beast slumbers in another man's soul.