Until you don’t care
what everyone else thinks
smile,
always smile —
it protects against pity.
Watch for the smallest
deviations in your path.
If you fail to pay attention,
they will pitch you out
onto the ground
to lie helpless
for what seems like eternity
until you get moving again.
Don’t travel on air.
Opt for solid, sensible tires
so sudden spikes in the road
will have no effect.
Expect your personal space to be invaded, especially at airport security where you will be legally molested. Prepare for your privacy to be invaded. Strangers feel entitled to ask you…
Who will save us all?
On zombie days when Buddha sleeps
and karma seems to pause
the world lies deep in murky haze
obscuring sacred laws
On zombie days when Buddha sleeps,
the fortune-monger thrives
and peddlers sell their souls for keeps
endangering all our lives
On zombie days when Buddha sleeps
and countries fall astray
the people lose true North again
while Love is kept at bay
On zombie days when Buddha sleeps
and spiders weave their webs
they spin and spin until our wings
seem caught in endless threads
On zombie days when Buddha sleeps and Gaia’s almost played she crowns the smallest…
To a life played out in clips
“You can come
and pick her up now,”
the receptionist says
over the phone.
We take the short drive
to the vet’s —
shortened further
by my state of mind.
Lately, I can’t remember
how I get from
point A to point B.
Ever since Daddy and I left you
at the veterinary hospital
our lives have been playing out
in clips (clip to clip)
with none of the mundane
scenes in between.
I long for all
the mundane scenes
in between —
to hold them
frame by frame
to memorize
memorialize
every moment
from point A
to point B…
A retelling of Aesop’s fable, The Stag and His Reflection
At sixteen, Princess Aurora fell in love with Prince Charming. Drawn to her beauty, especially the golden locks crowning her head like the sun, he asked that they be married upon Aurora’s eighteenth birthday.
In the meantime, Charming went off to battle. While he was gone, Aurora had a terrible accident that withered away her legs. The King had a chair with wheels built to help Aurora get around.
When Aurora mustered enough courage to gaze into the mirror, she admired her lovely hair but cursed her wheelchair. …
When the birds stopped singing
Fifteen months after the first wave of aliens, I can still hear birds singing for a split second after I wake up.
My earthly postage stamp was a Carnegie Hall for birds. Choruses rivaling the Mikado saturated my ears each morning, until leaf blowers or weed whackers drown them out. Birds calling to each other: males’ operatic solos wooing females, sad sweet arias.
More times than not, I cursed the birds for interrupting my reverie. Always tired from overwork, their symphonies grated against sleep.
Now, I miss their gift of pure music. Even the raven’s caw has become precious.
…
The hum of Nancy’s printer woke Josh. He squinted to read the cable box clock: 1:30. Through the opened bedroom door, an amber glow lit the upstairs hallway. Too lazy to turn, Josh reached behind him and patted his wife’s side of the bed. Empty. She must be working late.
Just then, their bathroom door opened. Nancy emerged, her face covered in white cream.
“You awake, Josh? What are you printing after midnight?”
Josh bolted upright. Assuming he couldn’t hear properly when he couldn’t see, Josh reached for his glasses on the nightstand but couldn’t find them. He leaned over…
