A Dollar Fifty

The mosquitos and the heat were both biting hard that morning, so Jim decided to wander away from the homestead and go off to town. It was a long walk that he had made many times, as the horse was usually too busy working a plow to make the trip and his family was not wealthy enough to afford one of the automobiles sold down at Benny’s. He took to walking very leisurely, a pace he always took when the only destination was elsewhere. Continue reading “A Dollar Fifty”

Sonnet #2

Somewhere, the exotic bird chirps a song mundane
As foreign sails sit still and furled within the harbor’s bay
While on the wind the mystic chime wails to those astray,
And the waxing of the pearly moon is outshone by the rain.

Somewhere, the all-mighty king prepares his lavish feasts,
With scent of spices stirring swirling out above the streets –
Where happy people weep and dance beneath the summer skies
And every vibrant color is a reaper in disguise.

Yet Somewhere holds no home for those who share my creed;
For as every distant image can be nearby sought and seen
Soon all lies succumb to fact, and no mystery remains to glean,
And wonder ceases blossom – locked away within the seed.

Any joy that grows there will be twisted and obscene
For every flower, Somewhere, is nothing but a weed.

Visitor on the Solstice

On a stormy Autumn’s ending as I nosed through tomes pretending
That the ceaseless crackling towards me no ill will bore;
Suddenly there was a bursting as of heaven and hell thirsting –
Thirsting for the spirit dwelling in the skin I wore.
Eerily the thunders’ bleating brought to mind a sinner’s pleading
For respite from demon’s beatings in those pits I’ve dreamt afore.
“You will not have me;” I wept meekly, “For my sins are not completely
Damning, no, I will not cross that devil’s door.
I shall seek my own exemption; I will have divine redemption;
For no fiend can hold preemption on the soul within my core!” Continue reading “Visitor on the Solstice”

The Prince of Parties

There was a time, before I slipped the shackle of common sanity, when I was a biology student toiling in the dusty subterranean laboratories of Hexford University, back in the decade that now bears the outright odorous appellation ‘The Naughty Aughties.’ Hexford was a small school that sprouted nearly overnight in the decay of another less notable public university, though some curse must have lingered in the campus’s bones as the school lay again abandoned by the end of that year. In those days, I was possessed of an uncertain timidity typical of the unproven scholar and spent the majority of my time secluded in the study of various cultivars. I am not ashamed by the admission that a solitary digit could number my friendships in that place, and how our companionship was tenuous at best. Continue reading “The Prince of Parties”

Sonnet #1

Between deep draughts from whitewashed mug
I peered through glass at worlds outside,
As life laid numb by discord’s drug;
While near my mind, a woman cried.

She wept away with heartache’s tide,
When sorrow spent, she turned and spoke;
From painful words she wished to hide –
To flee the tears that ebbed and broke.

And I, the felon greeting gallows’ choke
With intent to quickly draw the noose;
Had yearned to slip her silken yoke,
Yet once more sipped the drink of truce.

Alike the mug that grazed my lip,
My love had drained with every sip.