“The Tale of the Two Deaths”

written December 4, 1996   I had known the outcome of my incarceration the moment of my capture.  Being an officer of higher rank, I was relegated, along with several of my comrades, to the fortification of Los Cuevos.  At the the sound of those words I knew my fate my secured.  Los Cuevos was…

“Alone- A Poem”

written December 3, 1996      Hark–who is there? The night dark Your form I can’t see Though I feel you near Long I watch, But nothing stirs Hark–who is there? Come and show yourself So that I may be relieved. The stillness is unnerving Though I keep reassuring Myself that I am alone. Hark–…

“What I Know About My Culture, So Far”

written July 18, 2010   Fifteen of my sixteen family strands originated from the quaint icebox known as Sweden.  I did some online research recently, to discover that the best of early 19th-century times paradoxically brought about the very worst of times.  Peace, prosperity, and potatoes produced a lot more Swedes, who would later find,…

Blank White Page

written December 1, 1999     So we meet again, blank white page.  I thought I just got rid of you. Well, you’re out of luck, my creative self isn’t home.  No, I don’t know when he’ll be back.  Could be awhile. A week to write a story, I think as I walk home from…

At What Cost?

  written 1999, with a vast demolition and renovation  June 13-14, 2016   From where I stand Two feet short and losing ground It’s worth asking now, as I go down What’s the point of a kingdom If it costs a crown? The little old cannon on the knoll That once was manned Will not…

Incidentals

written June 4, 2016   Cornelius Cochran, besides having a rocking name, was known by my mother’s side of the family as the brightest known fruit on their limb, the polished family relation you set out for guests.  Cornelius, you see, was a 19 year-old farm boy on his family’s homestead near Blandford, Massachusetts on…

Pie #3

written February 1999, rewritten 2016 Weatherman Wayne, warning of the painted Danger heading for Harper’s Bay, Misses the mark and forgoes a refrain But Distant Mary she still waits inside As looking-glass people stroll the open day If you don’t go now you won’t see the bread band play Mock Turtle’s gone off to town…

Waiting in the Wings

written 1999, with a June 2016 shoeshine I bed down for the coming night Composed from things of childhood fright Tales from perverted Grimms, say hey! How many seconds til the distant day Remember how mother told you to pray Good girl sent on her golden way. Pirates are searching for souls like you Tear…

Falling Up

written 1999 Merry-go-trading, reality fading On my slipping senses raiding Picture a place spinning in circles Making kaleidoscopes of imagined perils Falling perception, a needed vacation, but there’s no fear Congratulations—you’re here My dear, you’re here

Shell Games

written February 2015   Shell Games Not many know this: Bonnie Prince Charlie’s heart, the slippery, pulsing piece of warm meat that propelled its perfumed, armored outer shell into leading the famous Scottish insurrection, now resides in a cathedral in Frascati, Italy. It happens to be in Italy and not Scotland because in 1746 the…

Transactions

written February 2015 Transactions What Axel Landon’s birth certificate, dated July 4, 1876, did not say, was that its existence , as well as Axel’s, was the result of a fifteen minute ya’tun between Jackson Landon and pretty, butter scotch-haired Sylvia Morton, Pinefield’s lone, sixteen-year old prostitute. The miracle of life. If the Pinefield Town…

So This Is the Blues

written June 2010 The average person on the street would rather endure a light carpet-bombing than visit the old hometown.  Opinions on most birthplaces range from questionable queasiness to downright despondence,depending on if you are an escapee or one of the ones left behind to pick up the pieces and carry on.  It may creep…