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London Fire Watcher

I walk the cobblestones of Queen VictoriaStreet, rubbing the black soot from mybloodshot eyes and whiskingsnow-like flakes from my flat cap.A stench crawls the road beside mein a souring color of gaslight,flaming like golden fire,not yet pinched bythe lamplighter’s snuffer. The night’srubble crunches under my shoesas my walk stirs thick grey fogworking hard to concealaContinue reading “London Fire Watcher”

Hope Fragile

I lay in a bed of deep blue sky,The cool light of hopefloats in clouds – distant,like a painting on the wall of my life.I yearn to touch eachbrush stroke but dare notfor fear the hope withinwill disappear.

Quiet Ending

The melodic, nighttime chimes of myheart announce the arrival of the quiet.The quiet has its own sound – a whisperof silence, like the final, dying rippleof what once was a mighty ocean comber,sucked into the cream colors of a sandy beach.Who was this wave? How fardid its white tips travel? How raucousits fathoms of saltwater?Continue reading “Quiet Ending”

Roads Not Taken

I thought about joining the Navy instead ofgetting married. I might have been a pilot,or a battleship commander – and diedat the bottom of the sea. I could haveplayed on the college baseball team,become an All-American or been that guy – the final cut. I considered retiring in the Sonoran Desert,joining the fat Saguaro cactusContinue reading “Roads Not Taken”

The Church at the End of the Road

The red doors of 1886 open their armsto breathe a wind of welcomefrom angelic spirits suspended.The stained glass on high, sparkles ina scintillation of sunlight,as the sacred hands of the Savior wave us in. The sweet smell of Easter’s candle wax,tears beneath a flaming helicoid of smoke, swirling upward to skewer a bottleof the King’sContinue reading “The Church at the End of the Road”

The Bus Ride to Indifference

I sit on the sunny side,no shade to hide the flashlight glarein my eyes. I turn away from theintruding fireball and see a prettylady next to me, dark as night. Shesits quietly, hands folded, rubbingher arthritic fingers.I can sympathize. She’s from Jamaica, Queens; aneighborhood in New York City.We both mumble somethingunintelligible as we pass aContinue reading “The Bus Ride to Indifference”

The Artist of Time

Felt tipped pens hiss,pencils crackle, spraying blackash in circles like the darknessof expired hours. A palette of paints, oils ofblue, yellow, and brown;a thin brush drops slowly downthe canvas like hourglass sand. A thoughtful lean, a cat-likesmile, a feline stretchof tired satisfaction; the passingpurr of a breeze gone by. Remnants of work, now idle;pens, pencils,Continue reading “The Artist of Time”

I Am

the lone voice to listen for, midstmoonlit misery,while you weep for lack of sleepas the demon thief slipsaway with your rest. I Am the creator of lightthat you may never be lostin the foul fog of your life, tossedby injustice, unfairnessand uncertainty. I Am alive in your faith, evenwhen you make bad choices;my forgiveness reignsContinue reading “I Am”

You’re writing your autobiography. What’s your opening sentence? The whoosh of the ocean’s waves lap the beach like a black lab. I can’t help but stop, and look, and listen. Creepy how the wet sand grips my feet. How did a little boy from small town Oklahoma get here on the edge of the mightyContinue reading

Brave Bull

I smash through the brushin the Hindu Kush, splattering cold rainwater,with its melting ice shards perched peacefullyon green leaves, where the snow leopardand two-inch thorns of the acacia honey locustlay hidden. I blow through and look backlike the toro bravo sufferingthe bullfighter’s sword. The red cape dripsa blood river into muddy rivuletscut by rain underContinue reading “Brave Bull”