Monthly Archives: February 2020

Angry Red Light

Jenna and I are 40, almost 41.

We sit in her car, in the parking lot of an all night grocery store, listening to a song that meant the world when we were 16.

The old emotions return, the old dreams rekindled from embers almost ash. We were going to run to New York, dance every night away.

Up in the sky is a zigzag light, angry and red, and we know the nightmare is about to begin again. Our dreams nothing against the powerful.

Jenna turns to me and touches my face with trembling hands, tenderness before the nightmare begins. Human touch the only consolation.

Then the craft, that angry red light, takes us up, and we awake much later in the car, in daylight.

Playground, Early Morning

The playground is empty, even on a fine spring day.

The swings only sway in the April wind.

The playground is empty, so many lives had to pay,

arrogance brought the plague, the end.


With my pack and rifle, my worn clothes, my tired soul,

I sit in a swing, let the wind soothe me.

I might walk all the way to the coast, to dark, broken shoals.

Nothing waits for me there, I just want the sea.


Laughter on the wind, when children still were here.

Laughter, just another ghost in my mind.

I remember my love, and how power doesn’t ever care,

about the pain and brokenness it leaves behind.


Due east, as spring is here, and the cool winds roar.

I could wake to the coast, and look on the ocean,

at the horizon where blue and blue meet and soar,

and angels give the very last of their pure devotion.


Draws Tight A Rope

A girl with white satin opera gloves,

in a white dress; she knows she loves,

the starlight above her.


A girl stands before her home’s door,

no thoughts of loss or the coming war,

as stars confer.


A girl was kissed after a magical night,

when all was well and all was so right,

and she’s glows.


A girl touches her lips, and she smiles,

and she knows not the corrupted styles,

as age ruins what youth sows.


A girl goes to her bedroom to sleep, dream,

blue eyes are caught up in tin moonbeams,

as she lays down.


The soft satin touched him, and soothed him,

as they danced so close, a mirror ball so dim,

his soul entwined in her gown.


San Diego is where they’ll head after graduation,

give Neptune and his mermaids a hearty salutation,

as they stand on the shore.


San Diego will remain a dream, a stolen, youthful hope,

as the old men and their blood lust draws tight a rope,

and brings a war.



The Warmth and Weight

I rode on the back of her teal motor scooter,

feeling the safety of the warmth and weight

of her body, my arms wrapped around her



We were heading up the winding mountain

highway, to the picnic area that overlooked

the town where we lived, where all of our

dreams sought escape.


It was the first bright light of morning in

spring, though the cold could return soon.

It was the first bright light of hope in such

a bitter year.


I would spend the day with her all day,

and we’d eat our bacon, egg and cheese

biscuits and look down on the town that

we sought to escape.


And then we’d hike to the old fire tower,

and look out on the endless trees, wild

lands that called us, that tempted us,

that we took for Eden.


The motor scooter’s engine whined and

I felt soothed in the cool air as we rode.

Knowing we would be together until

the night came, is the sweetest part.

Public Bus Shelter

I might have let her touch my face,

sitting and facing each other in the

public bus shelter.


I might have let her have my heart,

when it was still straining for light,

that rainy evening.


I might have been still human like,

in the hope she would choose me,

and me alone.


But the moment passed.

We were both silent.

Then the bus came.

And She Sailed

Everyone moves on. Or they should.

1995. Boxful of mixtapes and photos.

Hand scrawled letters, assorted gifts.


A winter, a held hand, a magic first kiss.

But I lost her soon enough, and she sailed.

The stars still glimmer crisply in a winter night.


Put the lid on the box, and put it out of sight.

I don’t want to throw it away, but no point

in rummaging through the ashes of what didn’t burn.


A letter from Lindsey came today, a friend listening.

I’ll read it when I came back inside from drinking coffee,

looking up at the crisply glimmering stars in the winter night.

Chubby Elven Mum

22 years on, and the nights now are so much colder, less things for us to say.

Heather is not the elven maiden she once was, but still so kind and so sweet,

as a chubby elven mum, who knows the other world, knows the other lights.


Indiana is flat and wide open, and the sun is rising, still dark and cold morning.

A calm mood, eye of a never ending mental storm, I feel content here with her.

I’m passing through, on the road to a place only whispered of in my frantic dreams.


Heather and her son are asleep on the couch, cuddled up close under a blanket.

He may be half Fae, and she may be half angel, brave and full of righteous fire.

They are wonders, and I am lost, and I’ll never have a family, as the end comes.


Last night, I read a story of magic and bravery to her son, as he sat in my lap.

He was enraptured and his mind was full of light, the light that is in the stars.

Heather caught my eye. I looked to her. There was such love in her, I looked away.


They will sleep until the sun is fully in the sky, and I won’t stay to say goodbye.

Moving on, moving north, to the forests and rainy mornings that still remain.

Heading for a place only whispered of in my frantic dreams.

Marfa, Texas

Out in West Texas high desert, maybe he’s at peace.

The stars might still be seen in such a small town.

The war took the moon away from her golden comb.

The city once again fell into the sea, a dream faulted.


A revolutionary war, after a loved drank all life away.

The deserts were filled with hungry coyotes so very bitter.

A mass grave where an owl keeps watch, preying on bodies.

Maybe buried in the sky, bones white, all the venom evaporated.


But I knew a nun, old and tired, that told a tale of your death.

Taken back to Texas, name unknown but a food to the gods.

Calling out to the moon to come back, her to come back,

for the moon to cool your brown and make you drink cold waters.


Midday, in a summer of dry grass and temperamental signs,

you slipped away, no cold waters for your cracked, dry lips.

A misheard name on your stone, a devil in your letters home.

Or more accurately, a Satan, who saw their sins, and your own.

Every Kiss a Dare!

Kiki seems happy, young and free.

Bright eyes. Open heart. So squee!

Kiki seems like a star, on the screen,

and in her bright light so easily seen!


I hear thunder as a Red Dragon awakes!

I know blood and life are the high stakes!

I know stars will be wiped from the sky!

How can I smile when I’m just waiting to die?


Kiki’s videos are so happy and without care.

The pranks, the laughter, every kiss a dare!

Kiki’s videos are from a world far from mine.

She’s beautiful and free and living so very fine!


I hear thunder as a Red Dragon awakes!

I know blood and life are the high stakes!

I know stars will be wiped from the sky!

How can I smile when I’m just waiting to die?


Kiki is an angel and a mischievous young witch.

She can make us love the shadow so she is so rich.

Kiki makes me wonder if youth can always be stars.

Loving every dream and lust, even as our world scars.


I hear thunder as a Red Dragon awakes!

I know blood and life are the high stakes!

I know stars will be wiped from the sky!

How can I smile when I’m just waiting to die?