a bit of regret

you thought you would, but couldn’t; the time, the place fell through — instead, although you shouldn’t, you let him see you through the difficult incursion.the aftermath: no doubtthat having let him in would mean you’d finally seen him out

losing the competition

the time they spent together seemed so right — similar interests, easy conversation, and an unforced intimacy that turned red hot at the right moments but she kept losing the competition for his time to another woman, one she thought she could pry him away from — so she ended itwondering how she lost a … Continue reading "losing the competition"

Another Day Out On the Beach

I stretch my arms wide to the sky; The clouds ignore me (as they will) I listen to the seagull's cry, Or sigh, or song, or threat, or thrill -- I cannot tell, for I don't speak Much seagull (least not fluently) Another day out on the beach, I'll spend most Incongruently

That’s Just How It Goes

We’re bored with what’s familiar, But don’t want things to change; Such time-bound creatures as we are, You’d think we’d rearrange Priorities, so we’d clear outOut thought/emotion plumbing — Instead, the ‘last days’ pile up, And we don’t see Them coming

A Love Story

Once, a shy girl: soft imploding,Preset pillows, pressed decoding,Colored contacts, carbo loading,Lover, fighter, guard of dreams — Then, a new boy: bright exploring,Hope expanding, thoughts outpouring,Dark hair shining, passions warring,Writer, painter, all extremes — Came a moment: golden gladness,Manic mixture, molten madness,Scenes of soon-forgotten sadness,Two lives taken off of shelves Once, a shy girl: gotten … Continue reading "A Love Story"

Sketches – 93

I used to wonder how ugly guys ended up with beautiful women — now I are one You are not ugly. I would not have married you if you were. Your grammar, on the other hand… Ugliness is more than appearance. Or maybe less, I can never remember Well, that’s just nonsense How about, “Beauty … Continue reading "Sketches – 93"

the one who criticizes

the one who follows cannot say with truth the way it feels to lead; the one who criticizes, but has never planted their first seed but who then comments, knowingly; as though the sidelines make the coach, like anglers who ford no stream but think it's all the same if they just poach

the trees of Avalon

Beneath the trees of Avalon, We waited for the night; With purple, indigo, and gold, Awash the waning light -- We fled the anger and the strife, The bloodshed and the violence; We asked for mercy and for peace, The waited on The silence