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Literature
2 poems
Prelude
I’m scared of this masterpiece,
how I painted it so perfectly
with every bit of green and blue, sewed
to a threshold of fragmented doors—
a tapestry of thoughts, where everything is new.
I was drawn
to a morning so sullen.
From the wooden chair in...
Madonna of endless linen
Our lady of one day at a time
Our lady of veils allowed to droop
Our lady of the thrice-revised corner
Madonna of postponement
Madonna of a thumb in the eye
Our lady done with these pulling at my ears
Our lady but a tear in the equipment
Virgin of...
That male thing
“Come in,” he said in response to the five steady raps on his door. There was a soft squeak as the door opened to let in a waft of the shimmery perfume the woman was wearing. Lawrence Gaston, Director of the St. Francis...
A long goodbye
He did not know how long he was standing in front of the airport’s large, expansive glass wall, which offered a misty, drippy view of the departing plane. Not long, he supposed, because his 82-year-old knees would have buckled from standing very long,...
Public Park
The city has a way of seeming endless. Every new corner I turn into seems like a different world. Each new street is a new explosion of color, activity, and faces. And the city changes quicker than any could ever track. A designer...
A basketful of literary food
A long season of drought gripped us and passed by. Before and after the war, local newspapers and magazines carried literary sections, although sometimes irregularly. Martial law clamped down most print and broadcast media, and only the government controlled saw light. Then, little...
