The sun goes down, worlds darken. Deep within another tainted dream I wander, alone, with just myself as companion. Dusty hallways fade in light. Eerie screams pierce tortured silence, leaving scattered bits of broken dreams, just memories.
When I was a teenager, I had very specific ideas about what constituted poetry, rhyming verses, measured lines, lofty subjects like love and death. Then I read Listen to the Warm by Rod McKuen, and everything changed. I was aware of McKuen's work as a singer and songwriter, having seen him on television in the … Continue reading Listen to the Warm
I feel somehow that I have lived this scene before, taken these measured steps toward the final event of my youth. I don't know when, but once, I'm sure I saw the faces, heard the speeches, heard my name called with the rest. I see them now, together, gold-robed figures walking straight, heads held high. … Continue reading Graduation Night
An old man looked through the jewelry store window at a young couple pricing engagement rings. Their faces glowed with anticipation of their coming life. The old man turned away with memories rolling down his cheeks and made his way on down the road.
Some soft-muscled kid, sand kicked in his face, grows up to write movies where the tough guys lose. Late night, soft-white GE light shines down on his battle-page, him cast as the victor, shattering the myth that girls only like the jocks. Red blood ink spills from the pen, his sword as he lops off … Continue reading Compensation
Dedicated to the William H. Russell High School Graduating Class of 1981. Yesterday's children, obscured from sight, Burst up through time and into the light. Stand amongst honor and take your bow. Yesterday's children have all grown up now. Though years you've labored, toiled, and strained, Year after year you faced it again. So now … Continue reading In Tribute to a Graduating Class
The sun goes down, worlds darken. Deep within another tainted dream I wander, alone, with only myself as companion. Dusty hallways fade in light. Eerie screams pierce tortured silence, leaving only scattered bits of broken dreams; just memories.
The small figure stands, clinching the bat, waiting for the final pitch. His chest heaves once, and he glances toward the stands where his mother used to sit. He sees the quick, white spot moving toward him. He swings and knocks it out of the park.