meeting Prometheus

The waves crash on the shore below us.  It’s beautiful here.  I could sleep here forever...

a minute to not breathe

Orbs of air, like weightless quicksilver, slide from my nose as I roll to my back.

and thank you for allowing me to return

And now I see where you had been standing, that air blessed with the fragrance of your sweat...

thank you for allowing me to return

I wait here, listening to the words here and there that flutter out through the screened windows...

unfinished dishes and TV extras

How can I explain that he’s been the same person over the course of forty or more years’ worth of TV shows...

waxing and waning

All is poetry.  All meaning is bent toward something else.

the nice thing about internet acquaintances

He’d been gone for seven years.

how all wanting ends

Last night was still and quiet when I stepped out for smoke.  I had quit months ago.  But I wanted to feel that smoke in my lungs again.

the man with flowers in his hair

I can no longer see his eyes.  They are buried behind petals and greenery.  The eyes themselves may be feeding the root.

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