Category Archives: Poetry And Prose

A Dinner of Light (A Story)

Logan smiled as he poured a small drink for Joan. He placed it on the bench to his left as he poured one for himself.

“This isn’t what I imagined when you invited me to an intimate dinner at a nice place,” Joan said, teasing him.

Logan waved in the direction of the creek below. “This? Best reservation in town. You’ll see.”

The bench sat atop a small rise, looking down toward a gurgling creek. Trees canopied on both sides of the water. The sun was behind the trees and declining in the sky. An occasional bright beam of sun reached them through the mass of trees. The air smelled of honeysuckle and water.

From the insulated backpack at his feet, Logan pulled a sealed container and popped it open. Inside were a dozen slices of cheese, each a slightly different color, shape, and texture.

He held it in front of Joan. She took a wedge from the container and nibbled on it.

“Yum! I didn’t know I was this hungry.” Joan laughed.

“Take a sip of the whiskey. It’ll surprise you.”

Joan held the small glass to her lips and sipped. The ice clinked on the glass as she did. Her eyes widened slightly.

“This is amazing. I don’t really like whiskey.”

Logan smiled. “Honestly? Me neither.”

They both took little bites of cheese and an occasional sip of whiskey. Each of them attempted to take furtive glances at each other without being obvious. It wasn’t working.

Logan looked at his watch.

“Someplace to be,” Joan asked, teasing him again.

“Yes, right here. Two minutes away from the spectacle, if I timed it correctly.”

Joan laughed. She realized he wasn’t joking about something about to happen. She had no idea what it might be and it was refreshing.

Joan and Logan reached for a piece of cheese simultaneously, taking the last two wedges. After finishing his piece, Logan bent down and removed another contained from the backpack. He opened it and tilted it so that Joan could see the contents.

Inside the container was a sandwich cut in half diagonally.

“I could eat the container at this point, Logan.”

“Me too,” he said and looked directly at her face. His cleverness always sat on the periphery of conversation.

Joan reached for half the sandwich and took a bite.

As she half-covered her mouth, she said, “This is good, Logan!”

“Thank you. It’s infused cream cheese, thin cucumber slices, butter lettuce, and bacon. I had a hunch you’d enjoy it.”

“I do!” She took a sip of whiskey and placed the glass back on the bench. She immediately took another bite as Logan did the same and watched her face indirectly.

Logan noticed a brighter glimmer of sunlight pass across them.

“It’s starting. Just in time.”

Joan looked up in the trees across the creek as Logan pointed. Little dancing bright lights oscillated from between two of the taller tree branches. She could almost see the object hanging below one of the branches. Within seconds, the object cast dozens of colored reflections across the branches below it.

“It’s like fireworks with light! It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it? It was rough calculating the angle of the sun without it being in our eyes.”

Joan hesitated. “You mean you put whatever that is up in the tree?”

Logan shrugged and laughed. “Yes. It took me five tree climbs to figure out the height and angle.”

“Seriously? That’s impressive.”

They both watched for about half a minute as the sparkles diminished.

Joan finished her sandwich and applauded softly. As she looked at Logan, he nodded his head. Joan found the gesture to be endearing.

“I wish it lasted longer, but it’s like a sunset. It’s only the first glance that lights you up inside.” Even though Logan said it casually, Joan somehow knew he was exposing an essential part of himself. She felt a tiny spark of interest light up inside her, too.

“Are you game for having dessert non-traditionally, Joan? It’s up to you.”

Without hesitation, she said, “Of course.”

“Let’s take our shoes off then, shall we?” He turned slightly away and began removing his shoes, then his socks. She did the same.

“We need to Tom Sawyer our pants, too.” Logan laughed. He suspected Joan hadn’t rolled her pants up in… maybe never.

Joan leaned over and rolled her pants up on both legs. She stood up from the bench. “I look ridiculous!” She laughed, as she turned in a pirouette.

“Anything but that, believe me,” Logan said, watching her spin as if she were twenty years younger.

Logan bent and removed another deeper container from the backpack. It rattled a little as he picked it up.

“Let’s go to the creek.”

Joan offered him her left hand and he took it in his. Neither stopped to think that it felt as natural as if they’d known each other for a decade instead of a week.

Logan led the way down, moving at an angle. Joan saw a break in the grass and little bushes along the creek’s edge. Logan stepped on a flat rock sitting slightly above the water. The creek was clear and moving faster than she’d imagined.

“It’s a little colder than you would think. It feels amazing, trust me.” He looked back to Joan, who met his eyes.

Logan stepped into the creek and on the limestone exposed under the water. Joan followed him. As the cold water covered her feet past her ankles, she said, “Wow.” She laughed and looked at him. Logan seemed a little puzzled, standing there with the dessert container. Shards of light passed across him from the sun peeking through the trees.

“Been a while since you’ve been in a creek, Joan?”

She nodded. “Yes. Why has it been so long? This is amazing!”

Logan flipped the lid over. Joan saw that there were two plastic cups inside, as well as two small spoons. Each cup held what looked like fudge. Whatever it was, if it were half as good as the cheese and sandwich, she might wrestle both of them away from him.

Joan removed one of the cups and a spoon. Logan took the other and then lightly tossed the container onto the bank. He waited for her to taste the first bite.

As the mousse touched Joan’s mouth, her eyes lit up again. “I taste chocolate and coffee and something else. It’s delicious, Logan.”

Logan took a bite of his. He was more interested in watching Joan. She didn’t hide her pleasure when eating. She seemed to be that way about everything.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to forget this feeling. Standing in a cold creek and eating the best mousse I’ve ever eaten.” Joan looked Logan directly in the eyes and winked.

“You won’t have to.” Logan laughed.

“My my. That’s confidence,” Joan said, teasing him for the tenth time.

“I will always climb a tree for you if I can.” Even though Logan smiled as he said it, Joan felt a delicious chill run across her spine.

A couple of minutes later, after standing quietly in the water and holding hands, Logan led her out of the creek. The sun now nestled barely visible behind the tree line and probably the horizon. Logan picked up the dessert container and led them back to the bench. Without discussion, they sat on the bench again. Joan moved closer to him and she felt his arm around go around her shoulders.

They both looked across the creek as the shadows grew long. They sat quietly, each thinking the thoughts that people consider when optimism pays a visit.

X

.

Apathy

i caressed her lightly across the nape of the neck

because such touch signals connection

she turned her head to see who it might be

and it was me

i wasn’t expecting fireworks or glee

and certainly not my perplexity

her eyes remained passive

no upturn of lip and no instinctive lean or reach toward me

it was apathy, and observation

reciprocity of reaction is what we take for granted

where interest or love intertwine

i turned and let my feet fleet me away

i left changed

knowledge is pitiless
X

Creeper

creeper

in the moon’s embrace you prowl
a phantom of obsidian head and secrets
eyes like shards of fractured glass
watching and tracking her every step

you had your chance and now it’s flown
your deepest secrets on display and shown

she asked for honesty, attention, and time

you made her an option and squandered her touch
your interest morphed into obsession
though she’s free of your clutch

move your fingers from the keys in front of you
go out aside and get perspective

she’s gone
she’s gone

and you should be too

poet

poet

she told me with certainty that I was already a poet
that the day would not come in which it dawned upon me that I indeed was

it was not intended as a compliment
no more than noting the weather had shifted

almost mumbling, she added that rules in poetry are like ducks with paper clips

her words put an image in my head
just as sometimes mine remind you of an emotion

i am a poet and have been for years

it’s not a question

sometimes we need permission from strange sources

and sometimes little scribbles on a page translate viscerally into ideas

language is both for the meticulous user and the abuser

there is no deed or title for expression

i am both failure and success

X
.

Rough Hands (Guest Post)

Rough hands
Scrubbed clean
Spots of blood
Bare to be seen

Nervous smile.
Rosy cheeks.
Hand in mine
On leather seats.

Red hot heart
Pumping high
I thought I
Might call him mine

Blue blue eyes
Smiling sad
This is so good
I’ve got it bad.

I see flags-
Crimson red-
But his touch
Goes to my head.

I pray – I do
This is true.
Sparks and light
Please come through.

I don’t know
What to do
If he’s done-
Already through.

I’ve got too
many souls
Been close to
Too many holes.

And I’m still
Alone in the dark.
I’m still
Alone in the dark.

Those rough hands
Lit a spark.
So roll credits,
This fades to dark.

…though minutes long

blanketed by the sky blue

above the Earth immense

billowing trees verdant

dropping splashes of color bright

each one perhaps for my delight

seventy-seven irregular degrees

November ignored 

tomorrow reminds me that this is the last

time is short 

though minutes long

when you find yourself 

where you belong

bare feet sliding across bedrock mossy

water cold washing away the day

this moment stolen can’t exist tomorrow

you cannot borrow against what is not yours

for all the things displaced for tomorrow

surely regret will be your sorrow 

time is short though minutes long

what is surely yours is a song

you choose your verse

until its end

X

.

Honeyed Silence (Guest Poem)

There’s a buzz in the sun,

Under harsh light and heat.

Then stars shine, work is done,

Until dawn heralds a repeat.

And there, in shadowed night,

Held in sweetness’ embrace,

A calming chill of what might

Become in this honeyed place.

Meticulous and structured comb,

Like the life you built amongst the buzz,

Your honeyed embrace feels like home,

Silencing the harshness of what was.

Did You Ever (Guest Poem)

I told you I was going to bed hours ago.

I’m still wide awake and it’s almost tomorrow.

The absence of your words screams at me.

The deafening cry of your lacking intensity.

I remember you professed a strong preference

For concrete actions over eloquence.

But emoting my messages doesn’t count

And otherwise sparse deeds still leave doubt.

I think you like my smile when it’s directed at you;

You approve of my resume for blood so blue;

And you think you’ve got me around your finger.

I think I haven’t got any more reasons to linger.

There must be better, something better than this,

An arrangement where my needs matter like his.

Somebody who could hear my words and care

About the heart that so bravely put them there.

I don’t fall in love with titles, fast cars or banks

I don’t care about your grandaddy’s professional rank.

My heart holds the things you can’t touch or see,

And I expect to get that in return, equitably.

I asked for clear expectations and kind words.

I asked to claim time and what we already were.

I never yelled but told him I was watching to see

If he’d give love that felt meaningful to me.

At this point, it’s clear, he can’t or he won’t;

The result is the same. I hurt, you know?

And the answer doesn’t matter but I’ll ask him anyway:

Did you ever really want me that way?

Driving Past Your Home (Guest Poem)

I hate how I feel driving past your home

But I hate how I hate it even more.

So close but still a million miles away

Like rolling dice in a game I can’t really play.

I’ll keep everything you ever left with me

Wasn’t much – since it was just six weeks-

But you can take all the couldas and shoulda

Because I exhausted my words and my wouldas.

There’s no empty space, but there coulda been.

Everything’s out of place, right where it’s always been.

I filled up on ‘almost’ while you topped up my glass

Till my cup was empty-then I was on my ass.

Could you please move away from here?

Or turn back the clock, close the gap, bring me near?

You were half leaving while still trying to stay.

So close – but a million miles away.