Are you in there? In
side the echo of
sedgewater walls amplifying
I can’t stop the
SHOUTING! SHOUTING! SHOUTING!
queries of noise
I came here to get away;
to not hear you
Else, I’d be outside
in the garden, in the sunlight
blissfully thinking nothing
happily feeling nothing
But a different nothing:
an actual not-a-thing
stand. alone. happiness.
empty echoing walls
out of the way
When do you whisper these well-formed words,
The thought-strung wishes your mind made?
They’ve been dancing round a life-numbed brain
Awaiting a chance to alight.
Why won’t you hear their fluttering feelings,
Their pleadings, in soft-spoken thoughtspeak?
Why turn an eager mental ear-hear
To angry-loud worldshout wailing?
Who else will gather these bent-broken fairies,
Wearying, slowing; near-dropping?
Their language extinct, their toe-dust unsparkled
Your brainstem a graveyard of art.
The morning is frosty; the air so chill.
But, ’tisn’t winter that makes my heart still.
As I lay warming in blankets’ embrace,
One thing will get me to leave this soft place.
Hark! Hear the fragrant beau’s noisy approach:
He squeaks as he rolls his big, stinky coach!
I rush down the stairs; I dress for outside.
I must get there soon! I lengthen my stride.
Quickly now! Line up the cans by the road!
They ought to be decent, for their bethrothed.
He’s nearly here -at the end of the street.
I’ve made my offer and now must retreat.
Back inside for me, still in my p.j.’s
Till we meet, my love, in seven more days.
Someday, soonday my detachment from familiarity will send me soaring, burning, melting
Painting lightscape brushstrokes on empty air-void blackness:
A fantastic farewell sky-faint; a final, fiery death-stunt
For unknown, sight-blessed audience.
Up, from sparkling sprinkle-glittered hills,
Glowing backlit forms will gasp in distant, wondered silence –
My dying skydance, reflecting glints of living fellows;
Laughing, pointing limbs following my curtain-call bow.
Frosted pine-pinnacles will point, in vain,
Where once I sat, aglow, forever and a million years
Before the laughing, lasting exhalations mouth their frozen, “Wow;”
Their million dream-thoughts floating sky-high, tailing me forever.
Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Entry
My name is cheeks, or cheers, or cheese.
It depends upon my “smart” phone’s mood,
Fat-fing’ring on its tiny screen,
Its bumbling guess at my next move.
I’m riding, now, about boys to techs.
No: writing, voice, and text, you phone!
Hands-free dictating needs many checks;
Else, I send a nonsense palindrome.
So nearly, annoyingly helpful,
Rests snugly in uncanny valley –
‘Twixt time-saving and straight-up stressful.
Lighted lives forever ensconced
In purest white.
Mirror greater purposes.
“I’ve got to shop for pants today,”
She told the stingy traffic lights.
She told the grocer and the pump;
And then, the quickly-coming night.
“I’d love to try this recipe,”
She said, as they drew near to home;
With only time for Mac ‘N Cheese,
‘Midst whining, falsely-crying tones.
“A bath would be a lovely break
Whilst reading Lover’s Passioned Call.”
Alas, the heated water drained,
Whilst splashing children took it all.
The lights were off; he found her there,
Her loving, all-day-working man.
“I thought you wanted time alone.”
She sniffed; she said, “And, here I am.”
Flash Fiction Entry
Winter breath comes roaring down,
Madly scolding ling’ring Fall;
Brusquely ousting browning leaves,
Gath’ring frozen rain’s landfall.
Wintry hands paint sunsets gray;
Cloudlike masses broil near.
Roiling darkness cries its mists;
Spotted sidewalks drink their tears.
Wond’ring children turn to sky,
Tasting wind and hearing rain;
Watching sky-tears change to white,
Laughing at the snowed terrain.
So, when all of the food
Had been swallowed and chewed,
The guests left the dishes and host
With their brood.
And, forcing employees
To all do the same,
They shopped and they grabbed
And they spent without shame.
Please, stay home on the holidays. Popular greed is robbing store workers of time with family.