Does she wonder what I ‘m looking at? My eyes sidle, lagging behind hurried steps, and I watch as she runs in place. Her arms and legs do not float so much as flop, and flounder. They imply the...
Slices
I think I write vignettes best; perhaps my writing reflects my thoughts – always straying.
It can be nice to give in: Accosted
Finally
Tell me where I’ve been There’s nowhere to return to out there I think I’ve lost my way But that’s just not news today … The story’s old The black and white Have...
On Being A Dilettante
At times a trenchant voice interrupts my thoughts, asking me questions I’d rather not answer. “Are you…do you think you’re a dilettante?†I pretend deafness, hoping guiltily that racing...