Tag Archives: Stories

I LIKE TO WRITE (A LOT)

I like to write.A lot. My eyes get bright.My mind gets bright,my fingers eagerfrom the time they learnedquite clumsily to grasp the big fat pencilsto scratch big wordsupon the wide, blue, bifurcated lineson the sort of newsprint paperthey handed outto … Continue reading

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PAINT, PAINT, PENCILS, PENS, AND DOTTED LINE!

Paint, paint. . . Finger pressure smooshing colors on the paper, very bold. . . the memory’s faint. Tell a tale, with curled up paper tweaked, and ripped into a spiral roll to make limp leaves bean-stalk-like, quite fit to … Continue reading

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GOD, PEACE!

God, peace!. . . Please, give me peace! The voices, the choices, the one who belittles, the Benzes, pliés, Rolls Royces. . . The people, the cries, and the chimes from the steeple, blown away the wrong way in the … Continue reading

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THE STORIES THAT I TELL

The stories that I tell. Unknown: +++++which is the bigger fiction? ++++++++++The ones +++++++++++++++of my two-ton affliction? ++++++++++Or the ones +++++++++++++++that say that all is well? What’s true: +++++Some of each rings true, much like a bell +++++And some’s more … Continue reading

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AVOIDING AVOIDANCE

Avoidance– the urge toward that– such an annoyance. . . I’d like to put it in a pumpkin shell and have it stay put, very well, but I truly know, even if it was well closed, with lid, and hole-free, … Continue reading

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