LOVE POEM #90 – Drifting

Drifting

 

In the dance, when we drifted across the floor

the palms of our hands pulled one another

like two ends of the same string

entwined in the eternal knot of passion,

 

but now our drifting is done from desk chairs

that have shifted so far down the hallway

I am sitting by our double hung windows

and you are staring out the door.

——

 

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FIFTY WORD STORY – The Poison Apple

It’s so beautiful. Like a green goddess, crafted in Eden. How nicely does it dangle in the wind; a perfect sphere—unblotched, unblemished. How the sight of it made me salivate. I couldn’t help but hold it for a moment; to pluck it, to taste it—just one small bite.

——

 

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Sitting Dogs (and Other Haikus)

Text Back

The three blue bubbles

bounce in the left hand corner

bursting with silence.

 

Fear of the Dark

There’s nobody there.

Nobody in the darkness

clawing at dead things.

 

Eyes Closed

Walking with eyes closed;

somewhere an ambulance sounds

a sharp reminder.

 

Looking at the Bar

The circular stains

of an overfilled glass cup

that sat for too long.

 

Sitting Dogs

Their tails kick dust

when they drag against the dirt,

waiting for dinner.

——

 

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If Atlas Could Run

If Atlas Could Run

 

I wonder if Atlas could run

with all that weight on his shoulders.

 

There must have been a time

before his knees were locked in combat

with the eternal burden of gravity

that he could run about, carefree.

 

I have known such times

where the sun shines on blue skies

and Gaea’s warmth embraced my soles.

Days half-remembered from window panes

 

drinking coffee under the constellations

before the myth became reality.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #89 – The Leaf

The Leaf

 

If you look at all the flowers

blooming in the fresh spring air

you might miss her floating in the breeze

on her way to greet you from the forest,

 

but if you keep focused on the flowing sky

you will catch sight of her fluttering

like a dancer, so forgotten in her song

that it seemed like the wind was flying on her.

——

 

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FIFTY WORD STORY – Blind Mornings

I could hear the birds chirping in the morning sunlight, ruffling their feathers as the sun melted away the cool night. I felt my way to the window latch, popped it open, and drank in the air. There was a layer of sweetness I couldn’t see, hidden in the scents.

——

 

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Dog on a Leash (and Other Haikus)

Legos

My fingers fumble

to click the blocks together.

Where’s the yellow brick?

 

The Move

Staring at the space

where a sculpture used to stand;

now just an imprint.

 

Soil

Between specks of dirt

I can hear the solemn songs

of forgotten souls.

 

Cloud Nine

I forgot I walked

all the way down this hallway

when I held your hand.

 

Dog on a Leash

You’ve strangled my hand

hoping that for a second

I’d let you escape.

——

 

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The Days Are Just Packed

The Days Are Just Packed

 

It’s like a Calvin and Hobbes comic

crawled out from the panes of the pages

and onto the rugs of my living room

just to enjoy its afternoon nap.

 

Maybe that’s what Bill Watterson understood.

That from the irony of free time

comes the iron shackles of inactivity

which chains us to the floor of our potential

 

and then when we try to pick ourselves up

the weight of our regrets pulls us back

onto the pillowy sameness of familiarity,

snuggled in tightly with my stuffed tiger.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #88 – Hotel Stop / Through the Wall

Hotel Stop / Through the Wall

 

It started with a tap,

light and fast, like a rat in the wall,

followed by a whispered echo

asking for an answer we both knew

should never have been yes.

 

Yet I tapped back,

slow and uncertain, thinking that maybe

it had just been her shuffling around

while the TV blared in the background,

and then came the knock on my hotel door.

——

 

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FIFTY WORD STORY – The Interview

The ticking of the clock was incessant. Every second echoed in Jim’s head like footsteps down an empty hallway. Every shifting seat; every squeaking shoe rattled in his ears. His knee trembled like a spooked horse, trying to escape. Then they called him, and he was off to the races.

——

 

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