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Archive for category: Creative Writing

The World at War

The World at War

The sun never sets

in the eyes of a child who sees the world
on his own level

he leans on his side, relaxing with the roses
on a bank, so he can see through one
drowsy eye the quiet cottage
where a pot is starting to
boil on the stove, and his
mother hums with
Wagner on the

a fly brushes into his floating free hand.
he nestles into the grass
and falls asleep to
Wagner, a soft
overture that
into his

he wakes
to find the sky is dark.
he rushes to the windowsill
and realizes that dinner is cold.
he eats alone, blinking the sleep from his
eyes and listening to the music wane.

May 17, 2006Comments are DisabledRead More
Child’s Game

Child’s Game

I found a sprig of wood,
Of barky birch, like Robin Hood
Enshrouded in a ghostly cape—
Bowy as a spring, and tender as the rain.
I bent it with my small sprout hands
And saw the white wood strain.

I found a length of yarn,
Blue as fire tips, right on
My mother’s ceder desk—
Longer than my arm, and dangling like a braid.
I wrapped it round my thumb,
Then took it off—the notch remained.

I found a herd of bison high
Upon a plain ‘neath endless sky.
I galloped on a barkback horse—
Bow in hand, and arrows flung,
My sprite spirit, from
My treetop catwalk sung.

February 28, 2006Comments are DisabledRead More


Two jackals fighting,
Muscles bulging, eyes coyote wild,
      And in their teeth they yank a pup apart.
Sinews stretch and his taut skin splits at the seams
      And hot desert blood splashes the sun soaked sand.

A green eyed scorpion whips his spiny tail
      And the jackals share the mangled meat
      And the blood red sun beats on.

February 19, 2006Comments are DisabledRead More


Reach for the radio’s knob—
      a turn, that’s all it takes;
A million filaments aligning makes
      a tattered noise, a scream of little girls and boys
in Stadiums.

One flick—
      We soon forget:
One turn of one wrist
      And worlds connect.

Reach for it.
What frequency has found his voice at your command,
what winged messenger has come to grasp your hand,
Can you touch this Hermes of the air and feel his pulse and stroke his hair and

If not a million filaments aligning making
      Heroes falling, cities quaking
Empires finding a cure—
      The news today!
A war
crime and
we have
found the
way to
kill them
all and—

One small turn of your praying hands;
A million filaments aligning brings
      You life.
For what is there to pray?

September 15, 2005Comments are DisabledRead More
The Lobster

The Lobster

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I sat there
    weak and weary,
The bright white Porcelain rounded toilet bowl
    I hovered o’er,
While I sat there, nearly hurling, suddenly I
    felt a whirling,
As if something gently twirling, twirling at the
    stomach floor;
“ ‘Tis the lobster’s tail” I muttered, “twirling at
    my stomach’s floor.
        Only this and nothing more.”

I can feel my stomach churning, I can feel the
    claw upturning,
Filling me with feelings that I’ve felt right here
The cherry sweet Mylanta nor the bubbling
    soda Fanta,
Prevented that unpleasant tingling present as
    a sore,
“I pray that this will pass,” said I, “this quite
    unpleasant sore.
        I hope it’s this, and nothing more.”

But with this sour evil comes the prospect of
I don’t like this unsaintly burden which hath
    made me sore,
I have felt so dismal that the tasteless
Hath reacted with the Fanta and my soul did
    now outpour,
I hate to see the lobster from my mouth
        “I hope that there is nothing more!”

Slowly declined my mood as I stared at
    liquid food,
Circling the toilet bowl with stewy chunks
But hard as I could try I could not
The rowdy lobster that hath caused a stirring
    in my core,
“Curse you!” said I, to what hath caused a stirring
    in my core,
        “I wish you death, and nothing more.”

With pride I pulled the lever, never to again
To reunite with something that I sincerely
With the background sound of flushing, I engaged my teeth
    in brushing,
As I left the water, swirling, swirling down into
    the floor.
I left the water whirling, swirling down into
    the floor.
        (I stepped up and hurled again, right outside the door.)

May 1, 2005Comments are DisabledRead More
Sonnet 4

Sonnet 4

There is a moonlit pathway in my dreams,
Which spreads before me, drenched in silvery light,
How phantomlike and sickly white it seems:
So walks the haunting image of my night.
But once, I think, I saw a ghostly light,
Adrift before me, walking on my trail.
I dared not call and scare it into flight–
But I could sense this apparition pale
Would drift before me endless, as a Grail;
But yet I did not step, and frozen there
I saw she was a figure, slim and frail,
A girl, with flowing robes and tender hair.
The phantom of my dreams has yet to stay,
And in the rays of daylight wisps away.

April 24, 2005Comments are DisabledRead More
The First Farewell

The First Farewell

That summer we had all gone to the races and Jonathan lost three starts.  He was disappointed.  We all were.  His face got red and he swore.  He ripped his ticket and I touched his arm.  The horses went around again and Jonathan watched.  Then he sat down.  “Let us go back to Havershire,” he said.  I said yes.  He put his hand on my back.  It was smooth and warm and gentle.  He kissed me and I got lost like I always did with Jonathan.

I remember one summer day at the races in particular.  A vendor fainted in the heat.  When the race was over people noticed the ale and chips spread all over the ground and there was a mad rush.  I think the vendor was trampled.  But Jonathan told me not to look and I didn’t and then he lost two more starts.  When we left the vendor had been carried off and there was blood and ale and crumbs all mixed together.  Jonathan bought me a cool drink but I told him I didn’t want it.

We left and got a carriage.  The driver was friendly.  Jonathan gave him some money.  “Drive gently,” he said.


“No.  We must be careful.”

“All right.”

“Slowly?” the driver said.


“I love you.”

“I know” Jonathan said.  He helped me into the carriage.  He got in himself.  When we were in the driver closed the door and we felt everything shake as the driver got into his seat above us and then we felt a rumble and soon the English countryside was going past us and the noise from the track was gone.

“Did you like the races?”

“You lost.”

“Only a couple pounds.”

“I know dear.  But you were angry.”

“I could never get angry with you.”

“I love you.”  Jonathan held my hand.  The carriage jerked and Jonathan held my hand tighter.  We heard the driver say something but we could not hear.  Jonathan put his hand on me.

“Can you feel anything?”


“I could feel something.  It’s gone now I think.”


“It’s ours, Jonathan.”

“I know.”

The green pastures turned to yellow fields and then the light went away a little so you could barely see outside.  Then the carriage slowed and Jonathan looked worried.

“What’s the matter, dear?”

“It’s getting too dark to drive I think.”

“Shall we find an inn?”

“Yes.”  Jonathan knocked at the roof of our carriage.  The coach stopped.  I heard a horse grunt.

“We must find an inn.  It is getting dark.”

“I think we passed one not too long ago.”

“Go back then.”

“All right.”  The carriage tuned around.  I was on the darker side now.  The light was not as bright through the window.  I saw many shadows.  The fields and the bushes and the trees were indistinguishable.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

“I didn’t realize how late we had stayed.”

“It’s all right.”

“I will try to find us a nice room to stay.”

“All right.”

“I deeply care for you, Catherine.”

“I know.  I love you.”

When we reached the inn Jonathan gave the driver money and paid for him to spend the night.  He had driven gently and slowly for Jonathan and that is why we had to spend the night at the inn.  The inn was noisy and smokey.  Jonathan took me to our room and told me to lay down.  I did.  He went.  When he came back he had wine and some crackers.  I laughed.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I can’t drink that.”


“Jonathan.”  I laughed some more.  Then Jonathan laughed.  Soon we were both laughing very hard.  A deep, fulfilling laugh.  The wine couldn’t have made us feel better.  “Quick” I said.  I took Jonathan’s hand and put it on me.

“Did you feel?”


“Darling, I love you.  I really love you.  Do you think it will be easy or hard for me?”

“It will be easy.  God likes you.”

“Yes, he must.  I have you.”

“Yes you do.”

Jonathan laid me down.  He dimmed the lights and stroked my hair.  I heard him breathing but my eyes were closed.  Then I could smell wine.  I heard footsteps.  Then everything was quiet.  Darkness came over me.  I was in the moon.  Then the moon went away and I felt wetness.  Rain.  It came down on me and I could smell it.  It rained and I looked around and saw some field like we had seen from the carriage.  But it was dark and there were lots of shadows.  I walked but my steps were heavy.  “Slowly” I heard someone say.  I heard voices in the distance.  I looked forward and there were mountains.  With snow on them and long white slopes.  Then there were houses that looked like yellow and brown ants below the mountain.  Little curls of smoke came up and became the mist.  It was not raining over by the mountains.  But it was raining here.  I looked some more and I saw more shadows but they shifted around like some powerful presence was controlling them.  Then I saw one shadow that did not move or change shape.  It was on the ground and I walked towards it.  The rain felt wet but not cold.  As I walked to the shadow my steps grew heavier so soon I could not walk anymore and I collapsed in front of the shadow in the rain and suddenly there was some light and I could see the shadow’s face and it was Jonathan and he was dead.

I gasped and sat upright.  Everything was dark.  I heard rain on the roof of the inn.  It was light rain and must have started while I was sleeping.  I lit a lamp.  Jonathan was not in bed with me.  His smell was no where I could tell.  I rose and found my bed jacket.  It was quiet all around me.  I followed my lamp to the door and opened it and went out.  I went downstairs and no one was there.  I peered into the office of the innkeeper but he was asleep.  Some oil from the lamp dripped out and fell on my bare foot.  I gave a short shout.  The innkeeper did not wake up.  The rain sounded softer downstairs since I was farther away from the roof.  Then I heard some muffled noise.  I did not know the sound so I walked towards it, following the lamp.  It was outside.  I heard it louder now but there was still rain between me and the noise.  I went outside to the veranda where there was rain dripping down from the roof but I was still dry.  I saw the carriage we had come here in, Jonathan and I.  I heard the noise again.  It was rhythmic, like the rain or the beat of a drum.  I stepped off the veranda in my bare feet.  The cold mud felt good on my scalded foot.  I walked to the carriage.  The noise got louder.  It got louder than the rain.  The carriage was by the road and there were no horses attached to it but it seemed possessed.  I looked through the window.  I saw a shadow moving on top of another shadow.  I heard a woman’s voice.  Loudly.  I heard a man’s grunt.  I saw the shadows convulse and suddenly the light was in the carriage and the shadows jerked and I saw a face and it was clear and the light moved towards it and hit the face and the oil splattered and the flames lit and I heard a scream and the man shrieked and clutched his face and the carriage tilted and I fell backwards into the mud.  And suddenly the night was bright and yellow and orange and red and I felt heat in my groin and I did not care, but I rolled over into the mud all the same and I crawled away from the fire on my stomach and I went back to the veranda and watched.  The flames leaped up around the black carriage and swallowed the wheels and the doors and the man and the woman inside.  Then the rain swallowed the fire and the carriage was gone.

I took off my muddy bed jacket and gown and went upstairs and felt around in the dark for new clothes.  I put them on and then looked for Jonathan’s jacket which he had taken off when he came up to put me to bed.  It was there and I felt around in a pocket and found some money and his pocketwatch and took it all.  Then I took the jacket.  I went back downstairs and looked back into the innkeeper’s office.  I heard loud breathing from his chair and I knew he was still asleep.  Then I went back into the rain.  The water sounded different now through Jonathan’s jacket.  I held it over my head and walked down the road away from the inn and towards Havershire.

In the morning the rain had gone and my feet were tired.  I found a flat in Havershire that I paid for with Jonathan’s money.  Then I went to sleep.  The next day I went to the doctor.  I had to give him Jonathan’s watch.  He took out the baby.  He said it was dead already.  I believed him.  He asked me if I had another job.  I told him my brother did, but he was at the front.  The doctor said do you want to be closer to him and I said what do you mean.  Then he suggested that I sign up to be a nurse on the front and help people like my brother.  I said thank you and left.

The days grew shorter and in the fall the leaves changed early.  I remembered the first time Jonathan kissed me and a leaf had fallen on us at that moment.  Jonathan said it was a sign from God.  I knew it was.  These leaves in Havershire change to be bright red and orange and yellow, like fire.  And when they fall they are crispy and do not drift on the air.  The tree outside my flat leaned away from the street and I could reach out and take leaves from it.  I took three leaves, one yellow, one orange, one red.  I looked out the window at the street and saw a young couple passing by one day.  And I waited for them to go right under my window and I pushed the leaves over the edge and watched them fall straight down.  Then one of them hit the man in the head and he looked up but I had already pulled myself back into my flat.

That afternoon I left the month’s rent on the table and went to the army recruiting station and signed up to be a nurse.  I got on a ship and watched the ocean swallow up England.  I had left Jonathan’s jacket at the army office.


March 11, 2005Comments are DisabledRead More
The March

The March

Like a black puddle they form,
From the ground
Dirty ripples, dirty dirty ripples

Squish squash, but march they go
Leave the comrades, march march march march march march on

Like a black plague, they spread across the sands,
In bands of loyal regiments
They’ve taken the hill! In the bread! Win the lead!
The spill of red blood, feeding on strands of stained grass;
      Do not intervene—
The blood will soon become a brand new breed.

May 11, 2004Comments are DisabledRead More
Losing It

Losing It

My face pressed hard against the cold alley wall, I saw
below my eyes a little worm appear. He looked
around, levering himself so he could stretch his long neck far, far
out, then withdrew and stationed himself again in his little

The next time he came out, I tested him. I tickled
his thin belly and he wiggled and laughed. Then I
drew my eyes real close to his. I could hear him
sniffing me and I could see his slimy body pulse.

It was dark when he returned to my world, bringing with
him some specks of dust from the inside. I touched him,
caressed him, felt his long, smooth body, felt it wriggle
and squirm and pulse; he finally relaxed.
I looked him dead in the eye and leveled with him;
but I still don’t know who died first.

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You have won, noble Otto.
The sword and feather merged in
Our nation freed, and we released to march upon the world.
A new country. A new people.
A new order. A new race.
Millions millions millions millions millions millions
Will fall for us.
Die for our cause.
      Can you smell it, Otto? Can you smell it?

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