The Little Black Dress Just out of reachin a shop window,discreet,one teasing design’sperfection. I am huge,her heart says,and incomplete,without the basic black dressI’m told a wardrobe needs. The deeper she studies an innocent reflection, so greater becomes her restless irritation, until she, resigned, repeats: “Is there no measure,no sort of tapeto offer kind assessmentand aContinue reading “The Little Black Dress”
Tag Archives: Stories
What Chapter Are You Reading?
Deft fingers, light puffs of breezelift familiar pagestoward a sun’s benign interrogationwhen readers,for one moment,abandon the book,turn away to fill that cupat another faucetspout. Forever, curious eyesfind the story,someplace forward, perhapsback, it is dependenton luck or God. Meanwhile,excited light bombardstoday, dusting our shroudwith a blue under which,visible movements of leafand worm are lies,teasing that timeContinue reading “What Chapter Are You Reading?”
Trying to Keep Upright
It is slapstick comical,this furious winterslippy day.Folks are looking back quickto see ifsomeone else saw…they are embarrassed,as the single moment uprightteetered towarda fall. It doesn’t look good out there. I’ll stay inside awhile,where restless power is hummingand we’ve marmaladeon toast,a little something warmthat isn’t blood. “So lucky,”they say and I am lucky, I guess,my birthdateContinue reading “Trying to Keep Upright”
That Force Which Through The Green Fuse
(January 18, 2024) Outside,puffed birds are actingcrazy today.Perhapsthey have a temporary blindnessgranted themby whichever, whomever forcecan offer kindness on the one hand as antidote for icy truthheld in another.Maybe the flappersare simple, foolish, joyful?stamping wings the way I would feetto get warm? I am glad the long grasswent to seed,the berries to dry.My ordinary procrastinationContinue reading “That Force Which Through The Green Fuse”
The Smallish Artist
December 10 2023 Someday, I will truly understand where I belong, what I should and shouldn’t say in public and whose opinions and actions I should pay attention to. In the meantime, I just say what I like and hope I have good sense. I do care what the world thinks. Perhaps too much. IContinue reading “The Smallish Artist”
In Six Seconds, I Will Get Back to You
Many statements trueor notreceive that broad applausewhich indicates, in glitter-sound,alignment with the lawsa group of social voters passwith random muster-calls. It has been saidin public means,writtencrude on walls,that thoughts of sexinvade not womenbut men, most oftenof all. By this belief,it’s every seven seconds then,those full-grown boys,the masculine,think of hairy partsor carnal actsfrom which all livingContinue reading “In Six Seconds, I Will Get Back to You”
Fishing
I see at the great lake’s edge,a boundary shaped by manin concrete,as if true linewere something obscene, two fishers, a pole,a boat, old jeans. I canname a colour for sky,measure stillness of water surface,savour breeze,feel the weight inone summer dayas its line plays out,hook and sinker. Mad birds chatter on aboutsomething while I am leanedagainstContinue reading “Fishing”
The Trees From Which
Those trees from whichgreat violins were fashionedmade sounds like sighing.Bold limbscreaked and groaned,urged by wind that spentmidnightbeing musical. This is not quite the same musica cricket makes when itrubs its legs together at evening,arousing,but you get the idea. Perhaps Antonio Stradivariheard a branch moan,leaped from his bed, thought,“That is my elusive tone!”and ran to hisContinue reading “The Trees From Which”
The Guest May Never Know
Folks say that it was God,Himself, who bent the sunalong it’s track,sent the other starsand planetsfrom or to then back. A store-front preacher,whom I know,reads from a bookthat’s very old,breathes a quiet soliloquy. The ancient talesdo comfort him andI don’t flat-outdisagree, ‘causethings more strange thansomeone’s super powers,science says, must be. If Quarks with charmdon’t ringContinue reading “The Guest May Never Know”
The Proof
Suppose it true,our solitary home a spinning rock,flung across entiretyat fantastic speed. I can almost feel thewind of it,loose hair much likea comet-tail of frozen bitsas timeand every precious minute lived,flows out behind. This is a dazzling idea,whereGod and love andpower and fortune,win and lose andmighty oceans,taxes and war andconstitutionsmeannothing.The proof of paradiseis imagination.
Robert On The Air 