Always With The Punching

Imagine instead that the thugs suddenly drop their guns, their faces quizzical, their blinding rage wiped away by a wave of tranquility. They are not sedated into unconsciousness to arise later still bitter, but rather awakened entirely from their cold trance of hatred. They can feel again.

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Today

Inhale, exhale. The back and forth of the spiritual ocean. The rocking of the great chair. Sit beside me. Press your cheek to mine. We will ebb and flow together, ears like shells creating the sigh of waves each for the other.

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Ode On A Gin Martini

It’s the White Cliffs of Dover meet the Mediterranean. It’s a fruit juice from Venus. It’s stirred, not shaken, and Bond be damned! Let the party begin!

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Life Just Is

When I look at the Enemy I see him eating breakfast. I see him looking at the stars. I see him finally deciding to hell with it and taking a nap in the afternoon. I see him holding his head in his hands, crying over the blood and the cruelty and the indifference. And when he raises his head, wipes his eyes and looks at me, I hope he sees the same thing.

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