Friday, September 26, 2008

Lorch, Germany

Lorch, Germany

Why can’t I be in the Rhine Valley in Lorch Germany, with its quaint houses surrounding the lake? I could dive into cold water, wash the fatigue and grime of tedium away, leaving my skin aglow. A brisk walk in the early morn to find my coffee, and seek out friends and neighbors could start this day. We could talk about how we slept or didn’t sleep, how the wind howled or the cats screamed, or our dreams kept us awake. In Lorch, I could lay my burdens by the lake-side and let the fishes nibble them away. I could care only about how blue the sky is, how the wind feels cool upon my face. I could leave these painful dreams behind, lie back on the green grass and stare at the clouds that only have to drift along on a carrying wind, never wondering, never worrying, with no lost dreams, and no regrets. I could float like that in that tidy hillside village far away.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Writer's Desk

I've been looking for my desk. Having started 'writing' again, I've decided I need one. A place for just my things. With odd objects bearing mystical meanings known only to me resting in perfect spacing on its hard-topped surface. A place to sit and contemplate, to chew the end of my pencil, tilt my head sideways at the keyboard and wonder.

I intend to create magic as I write. To pull something out of nothing, put down words that no one has ever read before. To wind them in a tangled, lyrical fashion so that they sneak up on people and surprise! This is no small thing to be trying to accomplish. One needs all the help one can get. A Magic Writing Desk could surely be useful. It could lend its ancient, weighted wood to my ponderings. It could lend its solid steadiness to my wayfaring thoughts. Truly, the right surface, the right pen, these things make a difference. Just as the right pictures of ghosts and gods, goddesses and relatives, far vistas and reptilian creatures on my walls watch over me and grant me their support.

Alas, it has not come. I sent the winged message on a prayer. Knowing, in these things, it is best to let the spirits make the acquisition. And so we wait, my desk and I, until that moment, long decreed, has arrived. Then we'll sit in blessed emptiness and create these words together.

Friday, September 19, 2008

The Funeral

The Funeral

The hard-backed pews bear witness
death came on swift, fleet feet
from out of the shadows she rose
and laid claim

The weeping widow
left behind
broke in the noon-day sun
the trees and I both weeping
but the frail heart breaking is not my own

The pieces left for wind to scatter
I touch with tender hands
and pray
to say the words she needs to hear
pour my life
through the gap in her chest
and somehow bandage this wound
I know will never heal

Death came but the living bear the burden
of the blue sky
and the globe going round and round
of brutal time continuing
on and on
without them

We bear witness to this loss
the eyes so grieving
mute to truly comfort
the inevitable blow
of frail life passing

Thursday, September 11, 2008

The Same Eyes

There must be something about the dentist. I like to lie in the chair and stare at the ceiling. There is nothing for me to do, no problem at home or work I have to solve. I breathe. I refuse the offer of TV, even of music, and I blink slowly in the bright light, languidly, watching my eyelids descend. I realize I am seeing through the same eyes as I was on the day I was born. Everything has grown, has changed, except these eyes...

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Hi Dad!

Hi Dad!

It seems fitting that you would be the first commentator, as you are the reason I started writing in the first place. Your stories had a big impact on me growing up. I am loving this blog as well--even if it is only me, you, and a few of our close friends and relatives who are reading it! Anyway, I don't know about Pulitzer--I want to write POPULAR fiction. :>
Love you, too!