The storm.
The storm. Love can be like a gentle rain and love can be like a thunderstorm to the heart. A fall day in 1984. A auburn hair beauty came to my door with six… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Writing
Happy Mother Day. Remembering my mother.
(My mother in 1959) “Happy Mother day. Woman bare the glory and honor of protecting their children. Look into a eyes of a woman. You can learn a million stories of what life… Continue reading
The lost and found.
The lost and found. I loved the Monterey nights. I would walk from Fort Ord, California to downtown Monterey nightly. The beach was empty till Seaside. The entrance to the Pacific was always… Continue reading
The endings and the beginnings.
The endings and the beginnings. She was my salvation in the Winter of 1978.I gave up everything I believed in.I left a sweet love to fall into her arms andI fell deeper and… Continue reading
We will accept less and forget who we were.
We will accept less and forget who we were. Mother Winter is here. I have driven 2500 miles to come home to Detroit. I came home for many reasons. I needed the kindness… Continue reading
Concrete angel.
Concrete angel It was a Spring morning in Austin, Texas in 1995. Yearly poetry weekend was here. My favorite time of the year. My only attempt at verbal poetry for me when I… Continue reading
A wing and a prayer.
A wing and a prayer. He told the Lake St. Clair. We become, who suppose become. Hell-bound life can lead us to place of peace. He told the lady of the lake. Kind… Continue reading
Beatrice Marcella.
Beatrice Marcella. I found a twenty-five-year-old storage bag. Filled with old photos and old letters. I went through them, one by one. Each photo showed me a stranger, who lived and now he… Continue reading
Old love.
Old love. She called me at midnight and she whispered. Johnnie, Johnnie. Do you remember me? I am so damn lonely tonight and please Johnnie. Can I come to you tonight? I told… Continue reading
The lady in the black dress.
The lady in the black dress. Dancing alone in a downtown Austin tavern with my empty Black Velvet whiskey bottle in my hands. Playing alone in the bone yard of long and shattered… Continue reading