Search This Blog


Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Renewing Scarves

She was as old as a worn curtain in a parlor. Mam sat daily and knitted scarves for people; a Striped Scarf for Claude whose bakery burnt down, a Cable Knit Scarf for Susan who lost her child last year, an Alpaca Scarf for John who often took a drink. a Chevron Scarf for Nicci who traded in her poems for a corporate gig in New York. When the wind would stir and the snow smiled; if rain became ice or people fell down they would often wrap mams scarves tighter and begin to glide forward. Her work was renewing just warm scarves for cold hopeful people.

Monday, November 30, 2015

The Spilled Apple Cart

He had been beaten by the school bullies five times, because he was sweet and kind but homely and chubby. Yet there he stood in the small courtyard as if he were as tall as a Timber; offering apples to other children from his father's simple orchard. Yesterday, they chased him home and he was lost, left in a city block few seldom ventured towards, including the bullies themselves. 
The child felt fine though even safe; he gave away apples to the worst criminals and poorest junkies that lined the block like soldiers. He gave an old woman on a bus bench a kiss on her pale fallen cheek; a gang leader was handed his best pencil box, he hugged a drunkard that wept on a sidewalk. Eventually, his Father would find him and take him home in their old truck.The lad worried about that neighborhood and those in it, and he couldn't wait to be kind to other people no matter how many beatings he would take. So he stood in the courtyard homely and chubby handing out apples.

Sunday, November 29, 2015


"I cry during Christmas love stories is that wishy washy?" He asked.
"A little," she smiled. "I cry more since I became a mom."
"Sissy," he said.
"I tried to be tough before that," she added.
They held hands, two friends that had a brief past.

Saturday, November 28, 2015

Hobos in Pardise

They were hobos, but married and in love. She and he had met in college and had decided to live off the land for the rest of their days; toting only a bible, a whistle, the clothes on their back, some hygiene, and each others love. One night by a soft fire when a blue sky had just began to turn dark an old dreary bearded man swept into their path. They studied him some and never hesitated to share their supper, which was fish and berries. They spoke the word with him explaining that God's gift was to save those brave enough to have faith. It isn't measured in works. When they all finally slept the bearded man rose, a thief, a killer, he looked at the two generous hobos whom lay in comfort without worry. That moment he chose a new path to follow.

Friday, November 27, 2015

She stretched in front of the window, a dark silhouette, sexy and long. 
"I never made love to a stranger before," she said not turning away from the open air.
"Stranger? I happen to be your insurance man. We consider ourselves part of your family," he said.
"Well that is kind of disgusting," she laughed.
They begin to wrestle right there in the Motel Hotel Zenith, Room 231. She swung at him with all of her might and he ducked like a prize fighter. He threw the six pack of complimentary beer at her and she kicked at him utilizing all of her gym lessons.
They begin to curse and a crowd gathered in the parking lot outside. She had him in a headlock when the desk clerk arrived.
"We make sure your family is covered, your car is covered if you have an accident. Stranger you dare to call me a..."
She watched as he was removed from the room and then gathered herself and then reached for her cellphone to call her husband another stranger.

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Last Word

"Prioritize," he said before he died. 
I grabbed for his hand and all I could think of in such a moment was, "I will dad."
And then I sat there in the dark room with all the machines beeping. I drank the ginger-ale he never sipped. Eventually they came and left, he was gone as were the machines. His eyes finally closed to the world. His heart no longer racing. I spent the next two years thinking about that one word. Prioritize. That word didn't even exist when he was born, Prioritize was a brainchild of a marketing/business-type person which was the opposite of him. It came about in 1972, the presidential election. I mean I knew what he meant, God, family etc., but that word came from jargon to sell cheap ideas fast. And I didn't like it on his tongue. Because he was to kind for corporate words, to clean for cheap jargon. I wanted him back so we could come up with a better ending.

Sunday, November 22, 2015

Unheard Songs

She sat on an old couch in a dusty apartment and wrote a song about a mansion, and turned the pen as if it were an instrument a surgeon held. Her hair was pulled back and her jeans were from days past , younger days. The paper was yellow with lines and the tablet was filled with songs written by her soft unheard voice. Her daughter asleep in another room and her husband off fishing in the ocean. Soon she would go to bed and then work, hard all day as a cleaner. But at night she wrote songs about mansions.

Saturday, November 21, 2015

Dickering for Copper Pots and What nots

There she was, and to Bob Mackey it was as pretty as a pageant winner.
"My oh my an Antique Turkish copper pot w/ forged iron handles and just looky at that gorgeous natural patina"
Miss Peggy blushed as she mentioned her people always had a fine eye for collectibles. 
"I used it as a planter and I tell you this, aint never had a substitute mail carrier that didn't give it the once over when they set foot on my porch. It is 140 dollars. 
Bob rubbed the pot a bit with his coarse left hand and commenced to dickering.
"75," he said.
"125," Miss Peggy tugged a bit on her necklace.
"90," he said.
"100, final number now Bobby." Miss Peggy demanded turning her head as fast as a swarm of Geese.
And that was that Bob nodded, they shook hands, and as the world went about its madness two old country souls dickered a deal on an old copper pot.

Friday, November 20, 2015

Greeting Cards

She had worked the register at the small local drugstore for 35 years. We used to buy our greeting cards there for every occasion. Mrs. Pat knew all of us kids and she even got to know those special days. 
"Isn't your sisters birthday coming? Maybe your paper route money would go better on a card for her than a comic book?" She would smile. 
"I hate my sister," I'd say, but somehow Mrs. Pat had a way with her eyes, and back to the shelf went The Amazing Spiderman and I'd soon be studying a selection of cards.
"I love our cards, she'd smile. You will always remember your special times and think of our little store, for years to come." She was an important person to us all, she mattered, and those cards meant more because of her. One night a group of teens killed her and the pharmacist. They ripped apart the store even the cards. No more neighborhood stores no more neighborhoods.

Thursday, November 19, 2015


"Well, new hairdo, red lining in your jacket, peach ice cream, I declare this is going to be quite the evening,"he smiled at his aunt. She was entertaining an old beau from the old days, it had been 20 years, she wrote him and invited him for Friday supper. 
"It's just pot luck, another place at the table on a Friday night," she said. But it was more, it was sweet, and she was smiling, she was young again and her eyes had a twinkle. A kind twinkle.

Monday, November 16, 2015

The Workman

He spent the morning preparing; a careful shower, thoughtful shave followed by a light application of aftershave to prevent bruising, powder applied gently, softly. His clothes laid out meticulous, the thick woolen multicolored heavy shirt and even brighter the jacket, his jeans those of a laborer, long bright red woolen socks still smelling of fabric softener,
His routine in his mind; the falling trees and rolling logs can kill a lumberjack. His bright colors would enable others to see him in the underbrush of the worlds dangers, proud to stand out approved, his every move rehearsed and thoughtful.

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

Whale Fishing

The two old gentleman sat on their tiny chairs fishing the river. They spent most mornings doing this and occasionally they argued.
"Whale fishing now that's a challenge."
"You don't no crap about whale fishing. You can barely catch catfish."
The older man showed his slightly younger friend a folded up newspaper clipping that he pulled from inside his brown corduroy coat.
Man Catches Whale After a Two Day Fight....
They went back to fishing quietly the slightly younger man grew red faced and furious.
"You know it's a fake article my granddaughter got it for me when I turned 70. I'm not even sure if Whale fishing is legal you ass."
The two old gentleman sat on their tiny chairs fishing the river. And laughed.

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Her name is Winter

Winter was a distance away 
Her cold smokey breath
mornings wind echoing
so warm is her cold touch.

Thursday, October 29, 2015


Love can be so pretty. I like to watch it, savor it inward; reminds me that God truly blesses us. I see a sweet, innocent, teenage granddaughter hold her grandpa's frail arm and walk him throughout a market, as slow as his tiny legs can go both of them at no particular pace, her listening eagerly to every story, every word, about every memory. 
I watch as moms and dads become the appreciated ones spoiled by their now grown babies; their hands held by grown up children, and their minds respected for their work ethic.
I see a group of people on Social Media celebrate the life of an Aunt Ida whose passed but touched so many of their souls with her kindness. An entire neighborhood made better by one little woman and her open home, a candy jar, a smile, a joke, kind dark eyes, daily phone calls to the other Aunts.
I'm tired of hate, jealousy, envy, gossip, pity, evil, doom, gloom, judgmental hypocritical, non functional, discouraging, lazy ways. Forgive me Lord ...from now on..

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Sweaty Palms

His hand was wrinkled and the nails were dirty; they smelled like slob. His palms had no answers; knuckles were soft absent of any fight. 
"Your future is desperate and unplanned," the palm reader mouthed. Her voice had an odd accent, and her eyes were lined dark, she wore a purple veil that was open.She was old and reminded everyone of lost time. 
"You need to change, but you already know that. I can't help the lazy only those with energy can be helped."
He smiled his teeth discolored, separated and aging. His breath was without care.
"You need to plan," she said.
He placed a wrinkled 20 dollar bill on the table and walked away from the palm reader empty and alone.

Monday, October 26, 2015

Salmon lips

They were buying seafood when the Salmon shocked the man and spoke.
"Perhaps you should consider beef, we have grass fed," it said.
The man looked at his wife and then to the shock of the Salmon knelt down and begin kissing the glass it was behind.
"Woah partner settle down. Settle down. You're making a scene."
The woman behind the counter motioned for security and the gentleman's wife tried to lift her husband up by his shoulders grabbing him just beneath his soft grey cardigan.
"Did you hear him honey? He recommended the beef."
The Salmon watched as the man and his wife were escorted from the premises.
"You really gotta stop doing that." The counter woman smiled at the fish. But he just made a kissing motion with his Salmon lips.

Friday, October 23, 2015

Slow Tango Tangle I think.

"I will warn you just once ... stay the f@‪#‎K‬ away for a minute," he said. 
But the tango knows no fear. And the music was pouring as fast as the champagne cocktails; he grabbed the man by the shoulders.
They began to dance fast and rigorously like two geese flying south in perfect rhythm, like two perfect cats purring at dinner.
"Remember what i'm like when i'm pissed. it's been a while since folks have seen my stupid crazy...well he's back for a visit ..."
He spun him around deviating from the traditional tangle but garnering mild applauds from several seniors that were dining nearby.
The angry man lightened. He smiled a bit the magic of the tango worked its powers and he softened.

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Free Books

"I'm here for the free books. I read your advertisement in the paper," he said.
The woman stood at the doorway of her apartment, she wore a pink slim, tapered fit stretched fleece fabric with an elastic drawstring at the waistband. Her t-shirt said 'Cage Free'. 
"The advertisement said nothing about books it was for a meditation massage. I'm a professional masseuse," she smiled.
He wore a black suit which had a quiet 1920's sophistication, and a lovely pattern that popped.
"I'm a librarian I just can't bring myself to admit that I'm here for the massage," he said.
She showed him in to her apartment which was shabby chic and he complimented her on the vintage cocktail shaker that sat upon an end table.
"I'm not some sort of conquest. I really do just give massages there is no need to pretend you are here for books.
He undressed down to his boxers and called her a butterfly, a silhouette of classic theater, a jewel hidden in an apartment. He lay upon the cold table and closed his eyes. She began the meditation massage and he forgot all about books until the timer went off.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

The Minority

They were only 20 years-old when they married in a wooden church. They would dedicate their lives to helping others, but they knew this would only be possible together. She would work as a case manager in a prison helping to create a pathway towards success with a program called 'No Shortcuts.' It would require many 12-14 hour days and their would be no accolades. They would use salaries only as a vehicle, living as minimalist as possible. 
He would spend his life teaching youth offenders how to use computers, how to create programs and applications that would change their lives. They would be bored, never eat out, and never buy items on credit. Their foster children would learn to love and turn the other cheek again and again. Education would be their entertainment. Sadly they would be in the minority.

Monday, October 19, 2015

Hot Water and THAT

It was shortly after the gang member moved in that he told him every early morning he would be reading with the lights turned up. And for three days he did just that, and in prison THAT can't be ignored. It would be the beginning of him owning him. He had been in jail to long to be owned. So he used the one microwave that was provided for all of the inmates. He heated and heated the water in the cup until it was so hot that it steamed like corn cob, which he hadn't tasted in years. He went into his cell and threw it in the face of the man reading with the lights, He watched his face bubble.