in my dreams
I look for a key
already in my front right pocket
next to the plane ticket
and a taped picture of you
and I, together in one of those funny
yearbook poses of the ‘70s
a window is always open
to the other side
storms and dinosaurs, seas and ice caps,
happy, shiny people in Eddie Bauer ads
sipping lattes in gleaming white cups,
their eyes peering over designer glasses -
celebrities, elusive, vibrant, and slightly vacant
when you ask them for the time -
as if they’ve seen a ghost, pass the scones, darling,
where was I…
When I first felt you, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom in D.C. Everybody came out to play. Children ran across the Capitol lawn, balloons trailing them. One or two floated away into the spring/summer sun so bright, it nearly blinded me. You were near, you and William, the two boys in my 1977 soap opera, the ones I’d been searching for with my mind’s eye for so long — ever since I moved away.
Just a dream.
By the time my husband woke me early in the morning a decade later to watch the planes tear through the…
I don’t know how to describe this love. Only that I felt it, as if that young, lovely girl were me and I, her. The pain, the heartache, the longing, aching emptiness for him, knowing he was The One.
Most of my dreams follow suit, and I wake up confused into believing that smitten girl is actually me. That I want such love. That it’s mine, when it really belongs to someone else.
I am a ghost in this machine, a clone birthed and built for other matters — far, far from earthly desire and storybook endings. …
“Those who love their life in this world will lose it. Those who care nothing for their life in this world will keep it for eternity.” — John 12:25
Biden’s announcement today of the coming vaccine mandate opens the (conspiracy theory) floodgates, effectively causing a devastating Domino effect for every living being on this planet — financially, socially, spiritually, and physically.
Step back and look at the big-picture ramifications of his unconstitutional and possibly illegal mandate. …
I don’t know what to believe. Are they lying to get ratings, or are they telling the ugly truth — about everything? Could any of them be so low as to make up shit just to get eyes on their eye candy?
Can we believe anything anymore?
We’re being punked by Narcs, and I’ve been down this road before (Becca).
An Afghan folk singer (a folk singer for chrissakes), school children, wives and daughters, real men, interpreters and soldiers…heroes all…all for what?
CCP’s ongoing long game of power absolutely? A NWO playground for the elites? Babylon, Part II.
At first glance, Tom Saknit ‘s pieces look like travel sketches — in ink and watercolor. Restrained, stripped down, negative space in draft mode.
They’re actually photographs he’s deconstructed, removing a layer here, a layer there, until he gets the right mood and the right gist of the places he’s been…much like memory as it passes through various, aging phases. Maybe not quite there, but close enough.
To the naked eye, Edmonds Marsh in the Evergreen State is just a flat piece of land with some puddles scattered here and there, surrounded by civilization — a hotel where writers congregate every fall for Write on the Sound (now, gone virtual because of Covid), tennis courts, Gallaghers’ Where U Brew, a kennel full of barking dogs belying the peace of the natural bird sanctuary.
But to birders and other nature lovers, the Marsh is a hidden oasis — a world away from the hustle and bustle of the modern-day and the looming pandemic with its waves of subliminal…
she’s so careful
drinks lined up
beach scenes set to stun
everything but the
we roam at night
sitting in our comfy, leather-back coffins,
waiting for a sign
my drug of choice
one more cheat meal
because it’s sunday,
the day before every diet
when I know I’ve already waited much too long
and wasted too much time
with the one
I won’t have
everyone arm in arm,
looking up at the star-tossed skies,
thunder and hot-air balloons wavering in the distance,
threatening to topple our carefully stacked Lego blocks
I’m kind of psychic.
I knew we’d never see Simone Biles compete in the Olympics. I knew the USA Women’s Soccer Team would embarrass themselves against Sweden. I knew there’d be another Covid surge in Tokyo, shutting out the general public.
And, I knew something was going on with ZZ Top…
…All because I heard “Legs” (Eliminator) rip-roaring in my head with that grizzly, meaty cut-and-run riff a week ago, out of nowhere, for no apparent reason.
Happens a lot.
I hadn’t heard that iconic song — the one that launched a thousand gnarly, guitar-spangled garage bands — since my…