I’m all alone just floating there, I pray it never ceases
As rain increases, water dons my face in sheets and creases
But in the spaces in-between the raindrops leave me air
Like spaces in my life between the joys, the loss, despairs
Is wisdom lost when unknown fear is used as one’s defense?
As oozing pointless venom out for spite makes little sense
Oh no, I’d rather huddle close and never live in fear
And never hide from those I hope might someday hold me dear
Or lizards wait behind a fence for butterflies less young
Who’ve made life’s tragic error’s turn to meet with judgment’s tongue
If older, that dire turn could bring them to a farmer’s spray,
“They all are inconvenient! Sure, we’re mad! They’re in the way!”
“And as his graying body slowly sunk to ocean depths
His lover bird sat on the dock in wait in quiet breaths
She will not stray; she will not leave; she’ll never go away
She’ll ever wait and ever circle ‘til her final day”
“There just beyond the mangroves, just beyond the human traps
Where sunset ripples streak the glassy tops in salty laps
Where winds rush headily with kelpish smells aloft in air
And then one random breeze — a briny spray on feather hair”
“There is a weight. There is always a weight. And the weight is always negative and feels heavy, yet it is actually lighter than air. This weight is weird. It steals the wind from a person’s heart. Everyone has this weight to some degree. And my weight is particularly heavy today.”
“If you like making love at midnight… (the day they put Viagra in the water and raise Johnny Carson from the dead)”
“An overly large American Agave plant is a spiked, stabbing, tissue-slicing medieval catapult payload conceived by a satanic, sadistic, torture-happy monk. It’s a star-shaped exploded death star with ridged spears and daggers splaying out in all directions, capable of viciously cutting a human victim into multiple pieces by just looking at it. Or so says the letter from my neighbor’s lawyer.”
“I could visually see the words coming out of my mouth in slow motion – eyes crossed, reading the letters tumbling in the air space in front of my nose – but I couldn’t pull them back in, no matter how hard I sucked – gasped — whatever.”
“Loneliness is an opportunity to write haikus, play pan flute and sing Bjork in the original octave.” (Satire)
“Plus, the Sandwich Cubano is the perfect sandwich. They take mere minutes to prepare and are, well – sublime.”
“I was pleased. I didn’t know if it was helping, but it wasn’t like I could massage his front legs or give him mouth to mouth — or mouth to – whatever a bee has – and make him well. I was out of ideas.”
“So my jambalaya recipe is designed to be faster to make than traditional jambalaya. If it’s quicker without appreciably affecting taste, I’m all for it. It’s also a hybrid – served gumbo style — and it’s Creole inspired. But like all Creole cooking, it has lots of ingredients and options due to garden availability and a myriad immigrant influences. Hopefully, I’ve listed enough of these options to feel good about making it…”.
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