City’s so dark along the edge and cutthroat down the middle. There’s a police presence. They’re looking for identity cards. But I’m an artist. Can I show them my vermilion instead? It’s raining a tarnished silver. Sirens make a show of keeping people safe. A drunk’s being kicked and beaten by cops. All I can do is watch […]
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A WEEK IN MAINE The morning of my retreat is dark with clouds loaded and low. Noisy gulls see me off. So do the first raindrops. I’m heading home but I don’t feel as if I’m going anywhere, just away from some place. I’m driving on tiptoe, tell myself, no looking back, let that woman go about blonde and blue-eyed, […]
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WINTER IN A FACTORY TOWN It’s the winter before winter. And the winter after winter. Everything’s stripped bare. The winds bluster like politicians. Only with cold air, not hot. Month after month, eyes can only stare, lips are too frozen to speak. The birds have flown south and are staying there. Just like senior management, except the top […]
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HIS GREAT DAY Turns out I was the great man after all. Otherwise, why the suits. Why the priest taking time out of his busy day to eulogize me. And look at those tears. To think I lived all of these unwept years figuring maybe some people were born without ducts. And they’re hugging each other. For me, the warring […]
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THE RETIRED ARTIST Such a relief to shut down my temples. I’m just a roof, some columns, an auditorium deep but empty. And, if you’re keeping score, I forgo the easel, the baton, and all that writing across time. If they want me, they can drag me out of what I’ve already accomplished. I plan to be […]
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