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Continue reading →: Attic
Come find the stairway. Its length and height Are beyond our sight. Climb the steps anyway. * Enough space to store Our thoughts up there. Pinprick a prayer. Dare-drop and explore. * No cantankerous cough. No cobwebs or clutter, Not even a flutter In the loftiest loft. * Up in…
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Continue reading →: One Page on Naps
I took two naps on Friday. Kidnapped, like when Mrs. Stanger told us to get our rugs. We’d find a spot on the floor and lay on them. Sometimes I’d count the ceiling tiles. Other times I’d look out at the clouds sauntering by. I occasionally slept. But last Friday…
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Continue reading →: Friday Fiction!
End of the Line chapter seven…also the end of the story. “Follow me.” Norm led me through the living room to the back door of the kitchen. The exit sign had a handwritten note underneath. A.K.A. Basecamp. Upon opening the roughhewn door, we entered a great room. It was an…
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Continue reading →: Moonwalk
No headlamp. The glow weaved Through the forest, And filtered down past The barren canopy. We rucked on, Four on foot. Two exchange ideas, Two half listen. I kept checking on la luna. It hung on and kept up. The moon was up And so were we.
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Continue reading →: One Page on Changing My Mind
I had shared with my friend a nephew’s Band. (UHQ…Urban Hillbilly Quartet, a rockabilly genre, which I often return to.) When we met up again, he quoted a line from one of their songs: “When I opened my mind, my brain fell out.” We both laughed. Let’s assume we all…
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Continue reading →: Another Sixty Minutes
Don’t take away the morning hour. Now I gotta wait sixty minutes For the forest to lay down Its shadows on my back lawn. Is it needful to tell the birds To hold on for a bit their Morning consults? Oh, this daylight savings Slight of hand is out of…
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Continue reading →: Calling on March
The great thaw is coming. Slush piles and drips Listen for the drumming Of light brushes and sticks. * Winter’s last gasp is suspect, Frosted breath hovering. Cool air scarves my neck I look for a covering. * What a mess it will be, The frosting on the ground, Sinking,…
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Continue reading →: Friday Fiction! End of the Line chapter six.
Norm grabbed another biscuit, scoured his bowl, and plopped it in his mouth. I followed suit soaking up some broth. I pushed my chair back. “Excellent critter corral stew.” “It’s on the menu often. Let’s go for a walk. I’ll clean this up later.” Norm grabbed two headlamps, and the…
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Continue reading →: Winterland
It’s deep winter, Acting like the seventies. Not the bipolar pattycake Snow seasons the Past few years. Underneath the Glaciered patio Are fallen flakes From 2024. Were I to start a dig I might find A flurry of ironed Doilies. White. Gray. Clear. No two alike, yet Huddled together…
Gerald the Writer 