The Pen
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It was either an instant or one hundred years, but I knew I had not survived the fall. Actually, it must have been one hundred years because all of that seemed so far away and insignificant now. The most important thing right now was the pressure on the soles of my feet. That, and the... Read More
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The following is an extremely vivid dream I had this week. I woke in fright and after much consideration, I think the theme of this is ‘genuine faith’. There are three parts: The wind whipped around the four of us as if it too wanted us dead. Gunshots popped nearby and with each one the... Read More
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Here is an excerpt from a larger piece I’m working on. Comments are more than welcome! Dark plumes of charcoal smoke spiraled upward into the midnight sky. A vague moon blistered and wavered above the dances of flames on the roof of the one-room cabin. A small form stood silhouetted against the orange blaze, stood... Read More
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The Journal, like a well-meant New Year’s resolution, has been forgotten. The writer is tired and his brain is stubborn. The discipline he has demanded of his students is lacking in himself. Sorting through, classifying, scrutinizing every thought and stray emotion is as disinteresting as it is difficult. The Journal is to the mind what... Read More
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With silent footfalls and a brisk wind She swept her velvet cloak down into the sunset valley, Leaving a perfumed scent of the dusk; And, teetering on the edge of midnight, Dove forward into dying day.
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At the dawn of the winter, the rose lies, hard-pressed ‘Gainst its crystalline coffin of snow. It’s mid-summer splendor could never have guessed Of the sharp biting winds it now knows. The blood of the red seems quite stark in contrast To the pale deadly white of the frost; Yet the flair slips away from... Read More
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Surrounded by the great expanse of cold and empty night The ever-moving flow still reaches in, With frigid fingers clutching at some nonexistant light- A fruitless search for deity in sin. The breathing sky moves ocean tide and stirs the waters on, ‘Til land and sea meet violent in foam; And yet I watch them... Read More
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Change… Jingles in the pocket of my faded jeans As I shift to my right leg and wait for the man In the telephone booth. His jaw is pumping and his veins have surfaced While his wrath is being poured out On a six inch piece of hard plastic. His hands flail in time to... Read More
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I was wandering along some sooty black street When I came across an ugly green dumpster. Inside I found a frightened young woman. Her Hair was tangled and greasy black, face smeared With grime – dark, dirty circles under endless hazel eyes. She looked up at me from within her cage, a Wild animal in... Read More
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The sound of gentle morning woke me From a night of painful thought; Dreams beneath the sea of darkness Swirling upward brought A weakened soul to sweet cessation, Resting on some distant shore, Warming under skies of mercy, Safe forevermore.
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Thoughts on Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury
Dandelion Wine is an amazing book about making the common things in life uncommon and about enjoying again with childlike wonder the world around us; if you have never read this book, you should do so within the next two weeks. Bradbury captures with inviting imagery and memorable passion the simplicity and beauty of youth.... Read More
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Every Brilliant Rose Draws Blood
Beneath the eyes of heaven, dusty shadows push the sun westward, Into the dark night beyond, without sound, save Cattle moving endlessly through fields of black grass, gently crushed. Black forms eagerly approach that sleep of death, With thick poison climbing like clover honey. Peach pits break teeth in the midst of sweet nectar while... Read More
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Beneath The moist warm earth, The lazy thing finds rest. A worm’s life – so uneventful. Robin!
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This is a short story I wrote in college. –Jesse Another hectic day at Jon and Lisa Redford’s house had arrived, albeit not unusual; this had become a common occurrence some time ago. Weekdays gave only enough time for work, sleep, and food, and weekends were jammed with things of little importance that needed doing.... Read More
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Dark shelves were made for hollow ornaments, Brightly twinkling and luring the eye, Sending slivers of colorless rainbows, Lightly tinkling a passionate song, Formed a dissonant melody slow. Look deep to the fields through the circle of glass And the mist of the dew disappears. The diamond butterfly aimlessly flits From the rose with the... Read More
