Tag Archives: the past

Estrange

Regret and I have a tenuous relationship flirtations ebb, wane pop up again precariously at odd moments, clumsily the standoffish one in this tepid relationship is me running hot-and-cold I can be a frustrating companion lackluster lover there is no … Continue reading

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Call me, Ishmael. Leave a message.

We all have within us some Captain Ahab obsessively pursuing something, someone unattainable physically or mentally we quest something lost never obtained hadn’t the courage or stomach for a diem you could never carpe uselessly we quest a time we … Continue reading

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Pictures

We were a long time ago years? decades? lifetimes? carbon dating? time is filled in a long forgotten coloring book half the pictures never finished bold, black-line outlines dated, quaint stumbled across by accident you flip through remembering all the … Continue reading

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Muse bemuse

She has been a muse nothing more and everything less since we met as teens inspiration still flows from a fleeting reminder; hearing her name (commonly used by others out of parental laziness) the searing stubbed-toe pain of an emotional … Continue reading

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On a Wednesday in 1989

As clear as twelve-hour old coffee she told me goodbye a jolt of caffeinated remorse left me wide-eyed and pondering as the glare from dawn’s light screamed, painfully, ‘morning after’ The pot turned out to be empty a good thing, … Continue reading

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Renovating

Vestiges of then subtly shade the now today is decorated with yesterday’s hues accenting modern life with retro-chic shades life-makeovers via t.v. show gurus who use family tschotskes as odd focal points visual statements from an old magazine viewed in … Continue reading

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But is it art?

Large, bold strokes spray painted symbols, words innocent and sinister hieroglyphs and slogans in black and blue on pulsating, animated canvas Names, times, events, places feelings and forgotten emotions weathered, all Some are ancient, indecipherable some still hurt some never … Continue reading

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Whether banes

You’ll never know what might have been you’ll never prove what could have been to loudly proclaim what should have been is the greatest of curses self-inflicted by men

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Harvest

Separating the wheat of bittersweet remembrance from the chaff that was us reaping now what was sown then in blissfully ignorant soil

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In focus

Grainy black-and-white squares of life framed in sometimes dated white; glossy paper mosaic tile dioramas snippets of life that have given way to phone-shot, high resolution videos that show all, tell virtually nothing You can’t sift through a file full … Continue reading

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