The New Shoes (1)

The gravel driveway crackles in explosions of conflicting mass, tyres on stones. It’s impossible to see who wins this war as the security light isn’t on. But it should be on? It’s always on?I skip from the car like a child of six just glad to be home from another remorseless evening, forget my briefcase, and stub my toe on returning. Scuffing my brand new shoes is a second little annoyance. Damn it’s dark!I root for my key; it’s buried deep, deep, deep in my pocket next to something else. When I find it, the metal cold to my touch, … Continue reading The New Shoes (1)

The What of Things

Originally posted on Color me in Cyanide and Cherry:
*Image found HERE The What of Things Open a dictionary and look up disaster. It’s Monday, my right hand grips the teaspoon, my left hand sends the archduke to explore the wound. An exhibit of my voice pounds my gut and I ask no one in particular why do I always sound just like a child, begging for a mercy kill. a junction of oregano, magenta lace skirts drooping to the floor, dripping sorrow down into the mausoleum of the carpet, one knife for chicken breasts, one for potatoes, one for… Continue reading The What of Things

In Silhouette

And though the world be silhouette, the definition of thy lines holds more power than any vibrant memory. In each stroke I remember, each molecule of ink I feel. This is no random symmetry, no desperate thought reformed, but all I was and am and wish. Brush strokes on a canvas to you and she and them, but not to me. In silhouette, I remain here: Japan. Author’s Note: I drew this picture and wrote these words after watching a BBC series on the art of Japan. I wasn’t going to post it, but hope you like it. This piece … Continue reading In Silhouette

Cometh the Rain (Part 5)

A dagger grin flashed from between crimson lips. He indicated to where the others couldn’t see right behind the sun catcher, to the summit of that blazing, reflected beam. The device, his device, burned heaven. An almost perfect match to his shed skin, the universe was no longer black but crimson.Our so-called saviour laughed and pointed even shaking my hand like a long lost friend. His adulation knew no bounds, his behaviour, manic. He danced and pranced on cloven feet, then jigged about for hours. As those below were washed away, he grew euphoric.“A second flood,” he hissed. “My flood,” … Continue reading Cometh the Rain (Part 5)