Sparkle

Sparkle

It snowed like crazy Yesterday And I got to Wondering Why snow sparkles It’s all about Individuality And light And angles I saw David Bowie Died And I got to Wondering How it is Some people Sparkle too And I realized It  is all about Individuality And light And angles So I decided that I...
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Disposable

“How are you coming along?” Ralph’s voice betrayed none of the irritation he’d expressed during an earlier argument. No wonder. He probably thought he’d won. “Great,” I called back, trying to sound, if not cheerful then at least neutral. Moving is stressful, I reminded myself. We’d started out the day companionably enough, making lists...
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born losers

  Heard a radio host/lawyer say on air that nothing ever really happens in this country. If it is a country. That definition is up for debate down here. I guess that is not so to Al Jazeera. In their program Fault Lines, they set out to understand Puerto Rico’s economic woes and interview...
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You

You

When leaves have turned And fallen down, And blankets of white Now hug the ground; When birdsong no longer Fills the skies, And crickets have ceased Their lullabies; When nature’s palette Fades in hue, And frost kisses grass Instead of dew; When mountains shrug In threadbare shrouds, And bare trees claw Fitfully at clouds;...
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stitches

I am teaching myself to crochet. My mother tried to do so, ages ago, but she is right-handed and I am not. I began my education around two in the morning of January 1st, when I learned to make Christmas baubles. It is a bad habit of mine, I guess, to begin things when...
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lingua francas

  There is always the sharp possibility that I am wasting my time writing, that ink won’t save the bits of me that float away, pecked at softly by imagined fish. I am dissolving, words barely rooting me to paper, a knot of sepia keeping me from oblivion. Languages are treacherous beings. Life is...
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Take a pill

Her name was Mattie. Or Maddie. I think Mattie, which might be short for Mathilda, but I never asked. She was a chain-smoker, back when, I think, non-smoking laws were yet to be passed, either that or no one dared to tell her not to light up. Long, thick, oval-shaped fingernails witness to cigarettes,...
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Songs Of Leaving

Songs Of Leaving

With fingers We wrote Our chapters In sand Ever knowing The tide Wiped clean Our work Salt air Salt tears Souls singed Whisper chorus Stained glass Platitudes Cannot fix Heart shards And the Better place Was here With you Dismissing how Each part Must end In solitude On shores Less crowded Composing songs Of...
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SideNotes

The Singers on the Beach

The Singers on the Beach

A group of beautiful, slender, tanned young men are on a huge blanket a few yards away, their tiny bathing suits essentially moot. Their lazy chatter and the smoke from their European cigarettes drift over to the two of them in light, caressing little waves. They are half asleep, the sex and sun and ocean breeze stunning them both into near catatonia.

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Simmering on Medium…



And then some...


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