Ill Fit

There is blood on the sidewalk. There, just outside the door. Blood, red, a pool that is still moist and it spreads – dripping over the curb. This is not metaphoric blood – the blood of a nation or of a cause. It is not the blood of innocent babies plucked from the safety of…

Do you remember the first time we spent together naked – Touching with electric fingertips and our lips, in places that only lovers can explore. Together secret and silent, away from prying eyes and listening ears. Where moments melted into hours, Where hurried lust gave way to love, Where words not spoken were already heard….

Somewhere down near lower Greenville Avenue an unusual Saturday night was brought to life with sights and sounds not normally seen by the owners and patrons of that street. A hard rain fell on the strip, limbs and leaves tossed in the wind, and party goers rushed from their cars to seek refuge in the…

You see a homeless bum, when you look at me incapable of love, living on the street. A fallen man living off your trash A lazy buggar begging a buck I scare your wife on her Sunday drive You tell your kids ‘be good or you’ll be like him’. But it’s you, your kind –…

The remnants of the previous hour stretch out pink before me, a medicine cabinet supply exhausted, the end to my reality. I resign myself the sticky wetness on my face and hands, no reason to clean the wretched mess my life force draws to end. A constant pounding at my door reminds me why I’m…

nothing, not even one, one is something. less than infinity but never ending, it is not nothing. is nothing real? can you touch nothing? by touching nothing there is created a reality of something. i might proclaim, “I have nothing.” i have more more than that, i have the thought intangible, but something. nothing is…