The Smuggs Chronicle, Part Eight
Haibun Eighth Day: August 25, 2013 Montreal. We cross the same suspension bridge Mira and I alone crossed 14 years ago. Signs for downtown lead us to the bustling streets of the city’s modern...
Tagged: Love
Digging Deep
Poem Smile, smile that wondrous smile Oh! my precious, precious love Speak those words I love to hear And hush whilst stars stare so clear The sounds that echo in my mind In naked...
Pink Kisses
Poem The sun explodes into a million pink kisses only to be buried beneath the greys of dusk. I catch one, pretending it is from you. Bittersweet. your tears still enchant the day...
The Smuggs Chronicle, Part Seven
Haibun Seventh Day: August 24, 2013 Mira and I wake up exhausted from lack of sleep. She, from multiple awakenings, and I, from an insomnia fueled by obsessions. We postpone our day trip to...
The Smuggs Chronicle – Part Six
Haibun Sixth day: August 23, 2013 We park next to a church-turned-community center near an inn on Rte. 100 — Stowe’s Main Street. It’s our second trip, and on the way to Mack Market...
The Smuggs Chronicle – Part Five
Haibun Fifth Day: August 22, 2013 Clouds fill the sky above Mansfield and Sterling. Sporadic rain falls. Mira and I enjoy an afternoon in. The sun soon breaks through. We eat her homemade salad...
Not To Say
Life Poem I wanna roll Not sit in this stall Wanna rediscover the sights Not from in these wall Plenty out there to see Not seeing it all from in here Knowing I can...
The Smuggs Chronicle – Part Four
Haibun Poetry Fourth Day: August 21, 2013 Nearly the entire Meadowlark trail lies bathed in sunlight. Mira walks on its shoulder wherever she can find shade. I feel short of breath long before the...
The Smuggs Chronicle – Part Three
Haibun Poetry Third Day: August 20, 2013 A note on our windshield reads “Please don’t park in front of our home (duh!) Thank you.” Mira’s face flushes red. She soon snaps aloud about the...
The Smuggs Chronicle 2013, Part 2
Haibun Poetry Second Day: August 19, 2013 I. Stowe Path Walking the asphalt path Wildflowers purple and orange High grasses, blackberries Sycamores and maples Lining the sides Past a bend Top of a rise...
Claw Marks
Short Story You always remember the first time you did something. Even years later. It’ll be something small, meaningless-but then you’ll go back for a split second to the exact moment whatever it...
