Monthly Archives: March 2010

When at the end of the day the darkness falls and  lights  around this neighborhood begin to shine from windows, I walk along the road that joins the homes scattered around a circle knowing the names of those whom I … Continue reading →

I went back to school after many years of only passing blinking yellow lights. I went back to school to read — to read silly poetry to first grade kids. What fun we had together! It was the best thing … Continue reading →

I was sitting in a church pew when this lady comes in and sits in front of me wearing a colorful jacket. I began to examine her apparel and in so doing saw two cats — one on each side … Continue reading →

The place where all my memories are stored has not grown, I think, with all my years. Likely it has even been diminished and may be more so  as my life is finished. What happens to those memories  I’ve had … Continue reading →

In canine heaven the dogs are climbing trees and all the cats, their refuge is denied. Bones are scattered all around the ground and scents are better than the ones on earth. There are no tails that do not wag … Continue reading →

When the frost lay on the daffodils and the whims of spring are still uncertain they bow in unison, as if in prayer — a yellow congregation subdued but strong. When the sun begins to touch their petals they very … Continue reading →

When people larger than they ought to be sit at a nearby table at MacDonalds and you see a mountain full of calories thrice as high as what is on your plate you try to look the other way but … Continue reading →

Just as the sun began to set I went walking in our neighborhood and passed the latest widow’s house. I saw her sitting in the living room alone and still. I didn’t have the will to call on her and … Continue reading →

If what passes on forever is retained in dreams what WAS becomes the IS for dreamers. And even when the dreamer wakes and thinks what’s called reality destroys the dream then memory contends and makes the WAS an IS again. … Continue reading →

“I want to die in the  jihad — not as a sick old man under a blanket at home.” He’s an eighteen year old fighter for the Taliban. I’m a recovered sick old man who’s been beneath a blanket. I … Continue reading →