“Books were safer than other people anyway.”  – Neil Gaiman In merely a week, I have traveled the globe Via airplane, by boat and on trains I’ve swum with the dolphins and ridden a camel I’ve crossed o’er England’s fertile plains I’ve gone back in…

The sky darkened and the cool breezes regaled Trapped outside, she felt the urgency to hurry home but she also reveled in the beauty of nature What was a person to do Lightning began flashing around her as thunder inched closer Still, she stood, camera…

The unsaid The unresolved The unhappening It rankles Like a pebble caught in the bloodstream. Screaming yelling Why don’t you get it It’s so simple.   Weaving webs To the stars Back & forth From the pebble to the dotted sky Hanging forever on this…

The problem with living in the city is there’s always someone doing what you are doing. There’s traffic all through the night and you are never the only one up or out.   Well, maybe once. In treacherous wind-chills, my visiting brother and I trudged…

That is why staying up is such painful pleasure. You can be both martyr and rogue at once.

How are you going to keep this up? Your planets are drifting away from the sun, and this is more than a cold.   Honestly, when is the answer ever fine, thank you.    

Dive bomber in navy tuxedo, you are the dapperest guy on a wire.   Scissor the sky, menace the cat, buzz the corn, and   sing, baby, sing the   longest   twittered   string   of    conversational    inflections    till    you    reach    that    final   trilllllllll-tweet!

I keep the pieces of the angel ball. They are too lovely to discard– hand painted wings and stars and sky (and dried red peppers in a bunch) on egg-shell slivered glass.   Ideas broke my heart . . . be perfect, which you cannot…

I feel the need to apologize to the bugs I kill in the house: “Sorry, guy,” ruefully, to the silverfish I squish, his softness a smear on my mint green wall.   Just days ago, I watched a minute ant colony industriously doom itself in the…

To be honest, I’m not clear on angst: Breadcrumbs under one’s existential skin? Psychological unrest of teenagers quarter-life-crisis-ers mid-life guys who grow their hair?   What, exactly, is angst, beyond asking questions in a petulant tone?   But I am clear on this: The “tone”…