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Sentence

In the nest of dead leaves down in the gulley beneath the fallen tree the bitter fairytale begins of some waking sleeper torn from a dream of a life not lived staring bleakly into the haze along the watery border where his heart lists on the sea of what is.

The drizzle was, at first, a happy patter on my forehead, until I realized I was losing my mind.

What 70 Looks Like....

70 looks like the world did not advance the way I thought it might when I was 30. 70 has a lot of holes in it. Good friends I knew who've bitten the dust already. I would be disillusioned if I wasn't so self-absorbed. I don't believe in much more than the day I face - other than those new young faces now who just might figure out what my generation tried, but couldn't. I am sure I am not the first person to think this way, but it all seems my own in this moment.

Well, But OK, Its Just Collateral Damage....The Cost Of Doing Business....It Goes With The Territory.

Heavy Hearted...

I am so sad today to learn that my good friend Steve Benneyworth is no longer of this world. And I know that there are oh so many who, like me, will miss his wonderful way of being. It was good to know him. At this time I do not know the circumstances of his untimely death. You never know whether the last time you saw someone was truly to be the very last time, until the day breaks abruptly and reality appears to have a gaping hole in it shaped like the absence of someone forever gone. Id known Steve for many years. During some of those years, when I would somehow work myself into a hole, I would knock on his door. "Got any work?" He would give me a bear hug and say, "See you tomorrow morning." Steve was a contractor who built and remodeled homes. And he was also an artist. I worked along side Steve many a day in building things for others, or in helping construct his large concrete and steel sculptures. A typical day with Steve would begin at his house in the morning. We would gather up all the tools we needed for the job we were on, then go hit a coffee house for half the morning talking art. Then we would go work the job a couple of hours and take what was always a long lunch break. In the afternoon, we would knock off and go work on one of Steve's sculptures. Steve always knew that as soon as I got enough money in my pockets, I would wander off into projects of my own for months at a time, and he was fine with that. Whenever I re-surfaced, as I always did, he'd give me the bear hug and say again, "See you tomorrow morning."

INDIGO BLOOM

INDIGO BLOOM “Where am I now?” she wondered as the bus slowed and then squealed to a stop with a final snort before dying amidst a black coughing smoke. It didn’t look like anywhere in particular...neither here nor there… just some faded comma on the nondescript landscape between places. She wiped her shirtsleeve across the window glass and peered around. “Oh, perfect,“ she snickered, “Its hard to find a real desert anymore. Most of them are filled with romance and nostalgia”, she wrote as she closed her journal and stood to dust herself off. Sometimes, nowhere in particular is exactly where you need to be. (TO BE CONTINUED...)