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Brazen copperhead.
Big man. Staying afloat on the backs of others. I’d love to ask: how do you sleep? but I know the answer – restlessly, under a veil of fear that another big man, younger, fitter, and with bigger teeth is already climbing your back on their way to the top. (From the Alphabet anthology)
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Where are the dragons?
Are they under the wagons? Or up and down rivers gobbling up salmons? Are they hiding in fires, in pots, and in pails? Is there sunlight and moonlight shining off their bright scales? Are they up in the belfry? Are they ramping down dales? At the foot of the hearth in inclement weather? Under a rug? Down in a cellar? Pretending they’re smaller than pieces of thread, curled up into shoeboxes under the bed. Are they blending in green or blending in red? Are they riding their bicycles in the bicycle shed? Are they stuck in a sock behind the mantelpiece clock? Hey, dragons where are you, where do we look? (From the Cake For Breakfast anthology) I come on a string
of ghostly horses and eagerly anticipate a kiss. You say / No, first show me what presents you bring. So I unravel all I have. There are forest fires and ponies, ropes made from fantasies and a thousand adoring citizens. There are wishes and chestnuts, slippers to wear in the fields and corpses from the mouths of chocolate bunnies. You say / No. So I unravel more. There are oceans and llamas, comedies and dramas, there is the North Star and the South Pole, a bowl of devil toffees and sneezes that look like meteor showers. There are crackers and whistles, a ride on a magic kettle and tickets to Carlsen and Caruana. You say / No. So I unravel more. I unravel my heart and my guts, my veins and my skin and my nightmares, my will to live and my spirit. You say / Ok. But I am spent, bruised like a fog. I hang in tatters, and you say / it's over. And then I realize the startling truth - you never wanted me after all, you just wanted the thought of me. (From the Notes For A Train Ride anthology) Shipwrecks they will find
all in good time, we bicker over things that are petty. The scientists debate on atoms in states, and we bump heads on issues so silly. Doctors request samples and tests, we long for things we don't need, and in the end we still have to contend with a universe much greater than we. (From the Herds of Words anthology) Cargo ships are beautiful –
on the horizon in the big, fat ocean. That’s the measure of distance. It can make even the loneliest of places look pleasant. (From the Alphabet anthology) There is April and May
and boats, and we try fathom each other always as soft as pick-up sticks. But when the roosters crow these mornings I wake up better than ever. (From the Notes For A Train Ride anthology) The butter is lazy, the blender is crazy, the toaster is hot for the bread. The forks and the knives are now husband and wives while the spoons like to be single instead. The kitchen utensils including scissors and pencils have silently annexed the drawer. And the sponge keeps on chasin' the plates around the basin while the calendar kills time on the door. (From the Herds of Words anthology) We live in
the arc - day and night, sane and insane, self and other, fast, slow – the arc is all around. It’s the steady inhale and exhale of life. And somewhere in there is us, bumping heads and talking trash as we attempt to manipulate and control the arc that knows no favour. (From the Alphabet anthology) |
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