Jesus appeared in the lounge there was no doubt as to his authenticity and the bartender had left the taps unguarded a second miracle as the former barflies would attest
when confronted by Truth there is no need for a message or proof even if those in attendance later felt disappointed their simian brains could no longer deny a higher purpose
they were made instantly sober the pervasive Light flooded through them no one fell to their knees though several cried out then a moment later they were left with each other in the beery dim
everything around them was wilderness it was their inherent duty to explain the universal order even if they couldn’t explain why Jesus appeared in Philadelphia on a February Thursday night barely an hour before last call
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.
Well good evening and welcome… to the BLUE MOON TAVERN what in the world are you doing out on this dreadful stormy night here sit by the fire while I bring you somethin’ strong to drink… I usually don’t take
Vines entwined, in engrossing weaves. Lush green branches, on archaic trunks. A specter familiar, charmingly exotic, Gazing I stand, recollecting the years. A vision, of some evening, eons back.. Kids’ playful frolic, and cheers lively. Carefree days, romping round the
A tavern Simple-complex, happy-low, A water hole full of regulars Heartbroken, shy or smitten Wealthy or wily smugglers. A rustic smoking a cigar, Passing colloquial remarks, A skillful pianist playing, A journey an artist embarks. A wanderer at heart, I