In the spare room again after homework flat on my back headphones on my ears drumming the air in a flashlit arena nonspecific screaming from adoring fans
then the splash of cold water the lights come on your unshaven face teeth bared in a grin song shorting out your voice overriding telling me to do something with my miserable life after I’d done everything you told me to do
thirty years later I got your note from the home where us kids voted to place you keep you safe from yourself asking me why I never came to visit, bring the grandkids and maybe a splash of brandy:
a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
Sometime small, sometime big But dream is dream Sometime it makes us happy, sometime it scares us But dream is dream Look it, feel it, and fulfill it Live for your dream and let dream live for you Long life
I kissed the pillows of her cheeks. Covering myself in the blanket of her caress. While here nothing is heavy. Maintaining the balance of smiles in the bed of her arms She doesn’t mind my snore, relaxed in complete comfort.
Last night I dreamed but not of Manderlay. It was instead of the Oak Ridge Cemetery, in Springfield where death evokes life. The moon bathed everything with its silvery beams making it easy to find my way through row upon