I sat staring through the window: The cars and trucks raced past, beyond the still, familiar, near: the bush, the trees, the grass. Just then, I saw a butterfly that made me think of you. It fluttered ’round the sticker bush, and back again, it flew. Its yellow path was crooked; its plan and aim,…
Category: Creative Writing
Branching Out
Branch out, stretch and grow. But don’t forget where your roots are. They’re heavy at first, those roots, holding you back, weighing you down when you’re thin and wispy, when you just want to soar. One day, though, that same heavy will seem security, anchor, bedrock, your wisp thickened and hard, your soar stunted and…
When the Bottom Drops Out
One cool autumn evening when the leaves are so crisp they crunch, the smoke tickles your nostrils, and pumpkins dot the doorsteps, you stand first in line to ride. Up the ramp you go. Slowly. Calmly. Stake your piece of the pie. Soon, you stand on nothing— back glued to the hot pink wall inside,…
Inside Out
Most people slide snugly through like columns in a counter. I drop them in as I’m sorting clean silverware, stacking plates. They spin like clothes in a glass-doored dryer, then teeter atop the others before settling down uniforming. A few refuse to fit. Oddly patterned, too thick or too thin, they bypass the spin cycle,…
Blue Paper and All
Your file in my mind’s cabinet measures sharply thin. Others, fat and heavy, barely contained in the manila, scraps of scribble-stocked multicolored paper stuffed inside … 1. White knuckles grasp the tractor steering wheel. He presses figure eights into the yard, exorcising its slinky demon. 2. Noon sun pulls sweat streams from her face. She…
In Residence
Deep in the purple velvet corner of her mind, he sprawls across an overstuffed leather sofa, guzzles beer after beer, clips his toenails into the carpet. Months since I walked out into the rain. And still he’s got a hold. Maybe I should try some Raid or something. Occasionally, she barges in, hands on hips,…
The Hike
When the mountain laughs, maybe it’s time to trek down a bit, blisters and aches. It’s easier going where you’ve already been. The snow’s no more shallow, no less in your face; the sun’s glare, no less blinding. But the holes you trampled on your first go up remain to guide you. So get yourself…
Ice
Frozen in time in place Words don’t come They kick me in the stomach, tease me with their hints. Images on the tip of my tongue. Brilliant, odd words frozen inside me, an igloo around my brain, no windows, no warmth. I plead, Heat, come, spark me. Allow release. A chechaquo on the Klondike every…
On a Starry Night
On a starry night she curls up like a Persian on her bed. Past the faded leaves and dead bugs, she spies the star, the one that blinks pale green then deep pink. Almost like Christmas. Once, she told him she was Venus, solid and stable. He pointed to the star: like a candle’s flame…
Bittersweet
Wednesday at seven-o-five he slammed the door you pulled yourself up off the beige kitchen tile, wiped your mouth with the backside of your hand. He skidded out into the road in his blue Camaro. You let the front curtain fall back into place, bent down and smeared the blood across the tiles, boiled water…