The First Snowfall

Wherever the last beautiful day in Eden went is where the antelope played in the jaws of the serpent. The red bird lighted on the orb and poisoned the waters and visited death upon the serpent and its seed and told us to get the heck outta Dodge because the hour is near, and it is here, when the snow will fall on the reluctant grass eager to stem the tide of green, waiting, hoping soon to blanket the land with icy dew.


9 October 2009
Old Zionsville, PA, USA







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Linguistics and Space Travel

A word is an ephemeral thing. Just a certain combination of gurglings in the right order, sung with the proper melody. Like so many tweets of a talented mockingbird. But a word can raze a wall; it can destroy a city. It can make a man leave his family, climb up on top of 20 tons of flammable, putrified dinosaur, and ride the modern beast with the ancient diet requirements to another world. It can keep a man silent who's being pressed to death. It can make anything. It can destroy anything.

8 September 2009
Old Zionsville, PA, USA

















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Storm

Green is the light that falls from heaven and black the thunder that hums; lightning is minty crisp at its climax.

8 September 2009
Old Zionsville, PA, USA

















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Where did the Day Go?

Yellow is the colour of rain in winter and cold it falls, first on your lips, then your tongue. Where did the day go? Forever squirreled away to the dusty closet of near-forgetfullness.


8 September 2009
Old Zionsville, PA, USA

















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Her Eyes Were Blue

Her eyes were blue, like the sky the day after a storm, limpid and see-through, like she had nothing to hide. But her mouth told a different story.


7 September 2009
Old Zionsville, PA, USA

















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