• when the words don’t matter

    Sitting by the shoreline, the water fairly calm, a sharp breeze enough to suggest only the time of year.   watching seagulls swift past the eery history of the mast wondering just when waters would ever tell me a secret.   I could listen for hours while the sun began to dance along soft waves…

  • When the Shutters Close

      We live in normal houses in Midwestern America we are a concentrated, suburban, legacy long after we are gone our worlds will be memory. Lives have been led along facades, frames, fades. We need to recognize in a word, life isn’t what it seems. When I look at you across the avenue I debate…