Category: Prose

You Can’t But You Will

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The bottle wasn’t opened slowly
It’s head was broken off against the bar
And slammed onto the counter
Ready for a fight and retribution

All manner of foam came pouring out
Curses and laughter, anger and joy
Mixed to make the bread of life

Like the sudden release of tension
Of the bow’s taut string
Pulled and aimed for so many days
A thousand messages in one blended voice

Who cares about America’s 4th of July celebration? Well apparently, many people still do. After being instructed not to assemble and restrictions were re-instated, many people made it clear they have had enough “prison” time. Many people in my area had purchased fireworks and displayed their own mini-shows of appreciation (full-on aerial rocket type). Interesting, since fireworks are illegal in any form in my city.
The city still did their show, they just asked that everyone watch from home. So we did. That, along with the full moon, the mask-less gatherings, the hoots and ahhhs of delight, all made for an interesting evening.





7.8b Stories….

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….and mine is just one

Flying in the dark
acting the part
“I know where I’m going”

It’s much easier
Now that most if it
Is behind me

But when I watch the movie
So many scenes
Lay on the cutting floor

I look for regret
Even he has flown away
Once kept in my coat pocket

All that work
Should mean something
More than countless struggles

She kisses my cheek
Says “good night”
Reminder of my gems

So many stories
Unfolding at once
Mine is just one




The Outside World

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The most used
That is, overused
Cliche
Pushed-in-your-face
Image
Becomes that
For good reason

Turns out, the outside world IS still the world. No amount of staying inside has changed anything!
Robin and I headed to Mission Beach to meet with some friends vacationing there. There were very few masks being worn (by the masses), although I had my covering at the ready.
We made some photographs of the families and headed home.
On the way, we stopped and sat on the wall at the Boardwalk.
And just watched the sunset.

Typically, when I open my “PHOTO” main folder and head to one of my main sub folders, I will find photos saved within that calendar year. There are sub-folders cataloged by year-month-day. Within each month there will be 1-3 outings per week.
Since late February I have cataloged 3 outings.
I wish I could say it’s COVID, and maybe some of it is. There are also other responsibilities tugging at my time. So perhaps this year will be a big bust for photography….through September/October. After that, I hope to resume my outings.

Metamorphosis 2

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The decision
To fly to the sun
Seemed easy enough at the time.

We just wanted nice.
Agreeable.
Not prone to violent swings.

But staying aloft
The thermals failed
And pushed us to extremes
We watched each other die
Many times.

Each corpse
Each empty shell of our former selves,
Fell to earth.
Resolute
We flew against the cold
Wings stronger than previous

Where were those children
Looking for false dreams
Perpetuated by fools?
Through sheer will
With one lifting the other
While the skies folded in on itself
Did we find ourselves
On the other side.

Love is an odyssey whose only guarantee is that no one in it or practicing it will or ever should, stay the same. It is terrifying and painful, and wonderful.