Cool, sinking, soft and fine the beach sand is like a bath for calloused soles. A crescent moon hangs above terra cotta shingles. The soft dough envelops the spaces between the toes rejuvenating like rest for a busy mind or a massage for achy muscles.
I am tempted to disbelieve the mantra of our founding fathers etched at the base of Lady Freedom, "give us your tired, weak, and huddled masses yearning to break free." The throne we resisted usurped by corporate greed, shackling 9' to 5' servitude for huddled masses in cubicles. A faceless stranger has taken the … Continue reading If hope were not helpless
Hanging like a half lit ornament against an opaque background it looks after me, or down on me. I can't tell. My pores itch to release the heat of the day into the cool night wind underneath its dim light. I let the cool darkness consume until every inch reaches toward that light … Continue reading running toward the moon
Three pigeons perched one-legged on a rusty storefront neon sign stand motionless. A young daughter shares a chocolate cone with her father while friends chat fashion in Russian. Elevator jazz interrupts the soft buzz of casual conversations. Some moments later, Gypsy Kings in lieu of Johnny Coltrane, the pigeons take off in unison and the rusty sign, now in motion with … Continue reading coney island
Rolling crests froth into a white soup as waves crash On the shore a subtle thunder and cool mist belie the frenzy of the water. The hot summer sun illuminates a beachscape rife with pleasure and the dank briny scent of wet seaweed. Were it not for the clockwork thunder of the waves and the … Continue reading Ocean
Trouble waits at the doorstep when doves fear to fly. The possibility to soar when electrons collide and scientists become heroes. People watch through windows overlooking front patios. Days go by and moons wane for a chance to cross the welcome mat.
It's wearisome outrunning this normalcy that litters my path with platitudes. Nymphs frolic in a field of roses somewhere I want to be. Where droplets of dew on green blades reflect morning sunlight. Late risers get the morning news from chirping birds whose melodies echo dreams past.