Poems and posts about life, creativity, and God
I. the heat of it.the soul of it.the enemy of water and life of it. depiction of droughtandthe final resting placeof things that come to dieen el sol,turned bleach whiteout in theonce flowing riverbedsand behind the decrypt limbsof old gnarled yucca trees. water shallowerevery year.no rivers,lakes,or streamsimmune. the soul of the sun,the valley of the…
went to the local CVSfor some Covid testsand pulled up tothe most depressingcar showeverin the parking lot. people leaned against their vehicles,casually dressedin that moderate dark. headlights off,pitch black interiors,hoods closed. low music,but,the static hum ofshining plastic letters overheadlouder. and the cars weren’t even cool. no flames or decals or pearlescent paint jobs. stocks rims.stock…
every year, tsunamis hit harder.every year, hurricanes hit harder.every year, earthquakes hit harder.every year, sunrays hit harder. the crust of the Earth slowly dries up—withers and cracks,parched and dehydrated. the glaciers of the Earth slowly melt into oceans—icebergs into ice cubes,shaved and dissolved. the forests of the Earth are slowly destroyed—cut down and burned,chopped up…
in the realm of fluorescent lights, I am crowned,a fast-food monarch, overseeing a realm of grease.my domain a symphony of sizzling patties,and the aroma of fried sustenance fills the air. behind the counter, I stand, a lone sentinel,in a uniform that blends with the monotony of routine.the flurry of orders, a ceaseless torrent,as time scurries…
writers all say the same thing— that we’renot in it forthe moneyorthe fameorthe accolades. that we just wantto write somethingpeople willread,enjoy,and remember. that wedon’t care aboutbeing a best-sellerorgetting interviewedorearning reader reviews. that we’re writing for ourselvesand no one else. that we don’t careif anyone elselikes or accepts or wantsthe words we write. but we do…