State of the World Address from the Bottom Left-hand Corner

the black-jack dealer laments over a hi-ball: “It’s depressing. All day I see people lose their money. I’m contributing. I’m part of it. I’m losing along with them.” –BSB

Witness

There is always, in every dive and bus bench and street corner and bar-stool and bank line-up some shifty gent with cracking skin, thick glasses, scars or scabs, who mutters curses under his breath to no one, seemingly, but me. I am the chosen one who soaks up the confessions of the lonely and lostContinue reading “Witness”

Hunting Ground

Lights shine artfully from towers that stab the night sky. That’s the key. The fill light seeps from lamp-posts and taxis and pedestrian cars. The darkness becomes the subject that’s framed in heroic personification. Alley-bound prowlers become protagonists in the urban ballet of apathy and compassion. Smoke emits from gutters to languish. Ambition puts rootContinue reading “Hunting Ground”

A New Understanding of Trauma

Trauma. The word lands heavy, evoking thoughts of a fragile mind subjected to extreme instances of devastation, violence, brutality, and depravity. Googling the word itself yields this definition: “A deeply distressing or disturbing experience.” It goes on to offer a tangible example in a sentence: “A personal trauma, like the death of a child.”

Back on Earth

~Part Six~ The man ducks his head back inside the truck. You notice for the first time that the man is wearing a baseball cap. You vaguely know what baseball is, but you’re not sure. Presently however, you can’t devote any attention to attempting to remember baseball, you are too consumed with trying to hearContinue reading “Back on Earth”

Back on Earth

~Part Five~ “Hello,” you say. A moment, then the man calls back. “Are you all right?” You think about the question. Are you all right? Are you? The query confounds you. You look down at your hands, as thought they might be holding some answer. Before you can say anything in response, “Do you wanna lift?”Continue reading “Back on Earth”

Whose idea was this?

Who built this railroad? How did they come to lay down track ‘tween house and river in such fashion as would drive wedge separating me and my family from nature’s flux of fertile luxury from its eager and ever-so-forgiving embrace? What hand made thee? And what hand do we owe thanks for tearing it asunderContinue reading “Whose idea was this?”

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