I'll do anything… No, not that!

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“They’ve been sat still for 38 minutes. It’s clear they’ve just dug in to defend their flag. I say…”

“You say…” 117 interrupted his Squad Leader, who couldn’t have looked more pissed.

“John, enough of your shit!” He slid a finger across his throat in what he knew would be a futile gesture. “We’ve got the same tacticals as Red Team. We have the same number of cadets. They're boxed in. I say…”

117 coughed. “You say… er… Sir.” I think he genuinely tried not to sound insubordinate. He failed.

“All right, soon to be ‘ex’ cadet. Out with it.”...

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He had climbed the steep Acropolis, seeking Athena Parthenos (the virgin), every time work or pleasure or strange fates called him to Athens. Yet today he paused by the Temple of Dionysis, only about a third of the way up the olive treed slope. One of the several custodians, some in plastic and metal cells, others, like this young lady beneath whatever shade the Gods (and strategic umbrellas) could provide. Something about her effortless attention, seeing all who paused or passed, while seemingly merged into a thick hard back, caught his attention.

She sat, regally, letting the Sun and people...

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His apology was not the thing she'd expected when she checked her phone in the morning. With one eye she stared at the screen and then rolled to her belly and pulled the phone to the tip of her nose as she tried to focus.

"I shouldn't have done any of that, I can't stop thinking about it."

She patted her hands over the bedcovers, fumbling through folds until she found her glasses and pressed them to her face.

"I can't stop thinking about it either," she replied, "But I liked it. It was exactly what I wanted."

His reply...

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I slept inside the dream I didn't spin from yarn
this time inside my dream
i didn't spin another lie within the tale
you never sold to me
I look inside this bed I didn't make
the spell i didn't spin
from yarn inside my dream
I couldn't sell this dream to awakened eyes and ears
and dreams never do
sell themselves well outside the walls inside our hearts
I bake for you but do not eat
I draw for you but do not sell
I sing for you but do not sing
The things and songs from stolen dreams...

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Wanted. Crib. Last one sold prematurely.

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Laugharne - pronounced "Laaarnn" to rhyme with yarn, but rolled out a little further - at night, with the graveyard gently graced by the occasional working street light and our torches. Us searching for interesting stories told on the tombs and plaques of the interred locals, who at times had meant something to the small church community that regularly overflowed the tiny, overgrown car park. My wife spooked at times by sounds and smells of Rectory Barn farm next door. We share imaginings of ages past, whispered in chiseled words on stone. This one died young. That one, an alderman,...

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What's this?

Dad showed me the picture of the orangutan splayed on the grass.

A monkey, I said.

It's you, he said.

Neither of us laughed.

Remember that time you asked me for a Coke and I stood at the soda machine filling it with Root Beer imagining Homer Simpson saying Mmmmm Root Beer?

Dad laughed.

I laughed.

It's silent most of the time now. I don't think to text and neither does he.

"Clung to" means everyone in the house knowing when I am there and when I am not. A friend is dropping off some cookies she made...

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Leaving was the easiest decision to make, and the hardest action to take.

They were just sitting there In the box. Helpless.

Helpless was the only word that seemed to match all around. Why wouldn't someone destroy everything in that box. Why wouldn't they be debauched to within an inch of the last bit of everything there ever was?

She was always too soft when it came to things. It's like her house was the place where things came to be rescued, rabbits, fledglings, dogs that ate the rabbits that took refuge there and demanded to be rescued themselves, and...

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Pollution is an artist
and poison is a poet

Death is the brightest of colors
Noise is the sweetest song

Pollution won a grant
and poison won a fellowship

We're meeting for drinks downtown
to celebrate their well-deserved
recognition.

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