Photo by sergio souza from Pexels K T told me: “If you hear a bell ringing to tell you something is missingMove out to seek for what you feel right”Ko Takamine, Cosmopolitan Ask not for whom the bell rings.It’s for you.Your opportunity.Answer it. Can you find yourself in the city above?Or me? “It is easier to perceive error […]
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Photo by John Nail from Pexels Truth is a friendYou can show a rock you found.Or a tooth.Or the meaning of life in the morning lightYou’re amazed by. People seek confirmation.Because truth is like a strange stoneFrom the groundThat tells a storyTo only strange stone readers. Your most valuable friend is not power. Or money.Or success and status.Or
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Photo by Brett Sayles via Pexels I’m a metaphor, not a street person.Metaphors are best found, rather than written.Like me.When you’re a metaphorOr a street person, I suppose,You come and go when you feel like it.Like rain.Like the unchanneled tenderness of rain.Sometimes I go days not getting wet.Then, sometimes, three days in a row. Street
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DAD enters Trinity’s bedroom, carrying his six-year-old in his arms and putting her down in bed. The light is dim. As he is covering her – DAD Nighty night. TRINITY Tell me a story, please. DAD Oh, Sweetheart, it’s too late.We got a late start tonight, and I’m tired. TRINITY You said that last night,
A few moments, first. Reverence for the masters – A sudden blow: the great wings beating stillAbove the staggering girl, her thighs caressedBy the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,He holds her helpless breast upon his breast. How can those terrified vague fingers pushThe feathered glory from her loosening thighs?And how can body,
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