Conveyor
The earth lurches and I’m thrown off-kilter., myself bewildered. A once stationary plain — a testament to tedium and manifest boredom — presently rolls beneath my feet, carrying me to I know not where. I care little at the time, for such is life — the sundry quakes, innocuous shakes that hardly break the status... Continue Reading →
Here to Stay
Red rock sunrise, four eyes open, blink in perfect sync, drink in the mountain view from hotel room. Five minute ride — crosstown glide — and we’re staring, standing at the base. Was that a smile I saw on your face? I thought you just needed to get away. A mile high, few hundred feet more,... Continue Reading →
Pride and Fear
Splayed across the swing she lays, in a pose that supposes deep contemplation — eyes shut tight against the sun, jaw slack, serpentine back, feet dangling, right wrist angled beneath the chin — a thin nod to to Rodin. Behind lids clenched, upon blank red canvas, (save errant phosphenes), her theater convenes. Whimsical thrills on... Continue Reading →
Big Jay
His blotchy red face shakes, jowls quake with laughter and I’m chasing after the point of the story, the source of the humor. In a half stupor I sit before empty beer glass as this pompous ass regales with dreadful tales from the day and I’m in no way in a state of mind for... Continue Reading →
King of Rutledge
Every morning ‘neath warming Dixie sky, upon his porch does the King of Rutledge hold his court in plaid and gray. Two felines pay homage at his feet, (last night’s pan of ham and greens licked clean), as squirrels leave home by fascia hole — a hurried zig-zag scurry toward yawning oak. Commence the civic... Continue Reading →
Implement-ation
I am a pen, but what then when nobody wants a pen, or to read. They all have nails to be hammered, so I am a hammer. For that’s all they see. What becomes of this pen after blow, after blow? Ink dried up inside No beckon to flow. Lying a stub The pages left... Continue Reading →
In a Dream, Home
Another day, another dollar wasted on soulless estates — grand staircases, marble fireplaces, triple-pane, bocote framed windows remote-controlled, and I shudder. Oh brother, home theater, dishwasher does laundry and also cooks dinner. Automation saturation — domestic overstimulation. No, not for me; not a house that talks at me, but a home that speaks to me,... Continue Reading →
Where I Sat When I Missed Him
His mouth is moving, and I nod approvingly though my mind is in the abstract — too easily distracted by stressors, the pressures of existence, the voices of business. A pane of glass between Father and I, and inside: seizures, palpitations in my chest arrest my presence. Oh, what I would to hear a replay... Continue Reading →
B David Larson 