Fiction Romance ~ Saturday, January 10, 2026

Marisol asks if my beard gathers crumbs
answers range from, no but it collects birds
red wing blackbirds as if inside a nest
incredulous, I pull one out, she hums
softly in my hand, I put her away
or I say it collects honey, my words
leave my lips, golden sweet, pure lies, my best

ask me a question, I will tell you lies
simple, subtle fictions, imagine day
kisses night for the wolves to howl, an owl
silently floats to capture a rodent

innocent, white lies, Kant dislikes, a bowl
for spaghetti, a colander, I bent

my head, mischievous as a cat, the skies
yellow with clouds, full of sunshine, photons

bend my neurons, interconnected web
emerge from the sun, under nine minutes
ask me a question, mouth full of bonbons
remember, I am an old man, I bend
down to reach my toes, but these knees, I rub

gently, maybe my shins, deep in my guts
answers I hear about my health, I ask
the doctor, just IBS, on the mend
how do I touch the floor with my hands flat
energy dissipates over the years
recollect memories, a fly gone splat
smashed against the wall, life destroyed, no tears

catch me on a good day, I wear a mask
rest in peace, a moment of silence passed
under the bridge, water rises and falls
murder my memories, emotions gassed
bittersweet darkness much sorrow recalls
shake the crumbs from my beard, empty the slums

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

What Is It Worth, a Dog's Life: A Triptych ~ Friday, November 7, 2025

These brown eyes observe changes at times strange honestly, inside this head, distractions empty bowls, food and water, eat and drink simple needs, as I wait inside the grange eager to please, to be fed, and to sleep barking, I like to bark, their reactions result in the dog house, left here to think only, I cannot think, cannot look back will they ever learn, must not make a peep never will I not bark at the squirrel except this behavior does me no good yes, I cannot think, I will not quarrel except I bark and growl and snarl, no food save a field mouse or a stray cat, attack --- observe the world from the head of a dog brown eyes, expressive as an ape, old soul silence is golden but my dog has mange empty bowls teach him a lesson, the bog remains to resolve all issues in life versions of the truth, what is the prime goal emptiness is loving-kindness, how strange challenged people cannot see their own mind how the teachings walk the edge of a knife answer all th...
Read more

Beat the Whites with the Red Wedge ~ Friday, May 30, 2025

Professor Miłosz answered my question reserved with but one word, 'Daimonion' obligations to respond to students forgave him for reflux indigestion ever more witty than a Cheshire cat such a response like peeling an onion strange to hear what inspires a profound sense of history and philosophy, deep rivers flow to offer one time at bat Moments come and evaporate, to seize in my youth the mystery of being łodzianin , The Promised Land , a breeze of less than fresh air blows mortals fleeing socialism into the deepest sleep ziemia obiecana , what does this mean answers in his History unfold time nothing escapes Polish Literature save for the Catastrophe , the unseen wisdom, impossible to grasp, then guides experience through right and wrong, as crime removes the stain of corruption, unsure existentialists adopt Marxism despite the deep divide taking both sides music to post-Stalinist ears, the Thaw yet, thirty-five years later, with the Fall questions of ...
Read more

σωφροσύνη ~ Tuesday, June 24, 2025

ὁρίζων κύκλος Not every book I pick up is worthwhile only the ones that make me smile, I read the whole feed from start to finish, I wish every book ran with me mile after mile verily, I read what I can, I scan each week, the shelves at the bookstore, the need readily without argument to dish yet another novel, hell-bent with lust burning a hole in my wallet, a fan of world literature, there is no cure only snake oil, the quackery of fraud kill me before blindness makes my mind pure Imagine, I could fly with just a gust picks me up off the ground but loaded down in my backpack, a library, the wind cannot lift this flying squirrel, quarrel kindly, or not at all, so small and brown under the weight of the world, an ocean presents schools of fish as knowledge, rescind intelligence for ignorance, barrel stock full of dill pickles, to munch and crunch worth the sea in salt, is it all my fault or as bananas travel in a bunch reasons become black and blue by default travel on occasion makes e...
Read more