He didn’t know why it was laying against the kitchen wall. Kitchens don’t usually have walls, but he figured it could be fun to play with. Grown-ups all seemed to learn one way of doing something and to stick to it. He wanted to try them all!
- First he grabbed the handles with both hands and thrust the broomy end at his sisters to poke fun at them. They were not amused.
- Then, he went into the living room and spun it around on his hands and it fell clattering to the floor as he dropped it. He tried again because it was fun! Maybe he could do it for a whole minute!
- He held the stick nearest the broom between his legs and started swaying his body back and forth to move things off the coffee table with the tip of the handle.
- He balanced it on his head and tried to walk through a door with each end sticking out either side. It fell backwards instantly, but after a second try he bent up his leg and caught it on his heel!
- He flipped the broom so that the broomy end was up, and he parted it down the middle like hair and grabbed both clumps. He then started rotating the broom like it was a giant steering wheel and he became the pilot of a ship heading through rough seas. The wind was bellowing, the lightning flashing, the rain hailing down on him. The ship ran aground and he took his musket with him with the wide end under his arm, and the tip pointing out in front of him. He made his way to a beautiful lighthouse. He climbed to the top, and from the top saw there was another ship. A Pirate ship! He looked through the scope of his gun, and saw that they were getting ready to sail. He jumped down from the lighthouse onto the ground, and fired a shot at one of the pirates holding onto a rope. And when the man fell off, he grabbed the rope and swung up onto the deck. Suddenly, he was surrounded by bad guys, and his musket now became a sword! He fought them off, and swung his sword wide to fend off the attackers! He reached the Captain, and the captain said if he could beat him in a fight, he’d be the new captain. So, he fought the captain, and swung his sword down on his head and knocked him unconscious. The crew were amazed! The captain shook his head vigorously after a few moments, and he took the hat off the captain’s head and he became the new captain of the ship!
I see a man with his face to the sky.
It is covered with ink or something like glass or oil or marble.
His face is gaping open eyed. He is appalled.
This is how I feel.
Smeared of face, open eyes but seeing nothing.
Staring up and paralyzed by a grip of something horrendous that has happened to me.
I am going up a futile hill.
Like Hammy from “Over the Hedge.”
My shoulder’s slump. I am dejected. “Steve is angry.”
I am a little kid who doesn’t know what he’s facing is some kind of bush.
I just know “It never ends,” and “It never ends that way too.”
Where the pink sunset makes the sky look lavender purple
As the soft tropical breeze blows alongside me in my loose t-shirt.
My wife is there, and we are so deeply, richly, madly in love.
Just listening to the waves and letting all the buzz-fires of our embracing take us places.
We are on the porch and now the golden light is on behind us to our right.
Is it time to go in to the dining hall, where there are other guests?
A fragment of a picture on canvas sliced diagonally imperfectly creating an un-equilateral, irregular triangle, pointing up in the mist.
The point of the picture is black into white.
The picture itself is a dark portion.
It is pretty sizable, though not relatively measured.
It is something of the picture of a woman in a light white dress.
The woman is not visible, perhaps because of the mist, or because the picture being destroyed.
My ideal is not visible, but hopefully wrought in the parts I cannot see.
Where is the rest of it?
Dig deeper into the earth and you’ll uncover it.
Funnel swirling liquid down.
The imagination plays by its own rules.
The mind is instructed, and I wait for the interpretation without seeking it out.
And it comes.
That gulp of an impulse the eyes take in a flash
A note of musical color in the symphony of sight
Something is swimming in the bright ruby wash
Eternity herein reflected temporally in the light
What reason to keep the eyes breathing in the sea
Instead to savor a mouthful of fresh water in the mind
Resplendent in all its observed possibility
Opened up by imagination richer flavor to find
Quick the hush of beating eyelashes to their rest
Unlocking the chest where memories play in the dark
Villainy cannot pillage what the eye holds with hopeful fist
Yes, the world is more not less than this living spark