Sunday, April 10, 2011

Father of the Year - in 160

Carrying precious cargo
he strained under the load
of his most important

Face peeking up
at what loomed above
the twin on the right thinking
“Is that for me?”

Backstory: Sitting and waiting for a table at a bustling brewpub in the Pearl District yesterday, my dinner partner and I were enjoying watching the humanity of a crowd - when a dad did the following. I WISH I'd taken a photo but I was so in awe of his behavior, I didn't act fast enough.

Father walks in with 2 small babies in car seats. Isn't that awesome, he's doing everything he can to protect them... when suddenly I realized the baby on the right was staring up at an empty Growler, hovering just inches above it's head. Um, what?

Worse yet, I could just picture this devoted dad carrying the FULL growler (with 64 ounces of his favorite brew), also perched precariously on one finger above one of his little bundles of joy. Yep, nothing but one finger holding on to that heavy glass jar.

Monkey Man writes a story in 160. Can you do it? If you dare, visit him HERE and leave him a trail of crumbs. Oatmeal cookies are purportedly his favorite so crumbs of those ilk will get instant attention.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Fear - in 55

Wandering aimlessly,
The sound of sorrow overcomes her.
She pauses, frozen in place
Waiting for the wailing to stop.

Every fiber of her being
Is tense, on alert.
She hesitates, hoping her fears
Are all in her head.
Dread fills her as she realizes it’s all over…

...she stepped on the stupid dog’s tail – again.

Feeling like joining the party? Visit G-Man, leave him a message (and be NICE, people), and he'll come visit - and send lots of new friends your way.

This is a Friday Flash Fiction 55. Noir is appreciated, adherence to the rules is expected, and having fun is the goal. Go play.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011


Things I had forgotten
lay hidden in the mist
Quietude and poison
await a brand new tryst

Afraid I seek
a kind embrace
and slowly slink away,
Amassed our worlds
our troubling
at night and in the day.

I wake to find you wandering
alone and troubled still
a soft goodbye is all you get
I hope it brings a thrill.

paths will lead us
through fields and forests past
Today I find
an open mind
Embracing what can't last.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Things misunderstood

What is it
that makes one
cry out for attention
when it's right in front of your face?

What makes one
need, crave, aspire
such adoration
and never see
what exists inside four walls?


You see
only things you want
and need
and you give
nothing in return.

unless, of course
it serves you well.

Make haste to find
worshipful sighs
in others
before it withers away
due to boredom
or malaise.

Roll your eyes at me
and say everything
without uttering
a word.

Starvation breeds
and the painful wounds
you manufacture
in your fantasy
only prove your
depth. Or lack

Go forth and build
your life
as a lie
and continue
to be
all the things
When you failed.

Truth or fiction
your lies

Sunday, April 3, 2011


She dances down the halls
giggling as she goes
awakening in all of us
a longing
for what's

I left my home
when I was young
and spent
so many years
building new ones
out of ashes
of dreams
that turned to flame.

Wishing for a new home,
forever wandering
and waiting
for its appearance
in the headlights,
across the park -
or in the rearview mirror.

I wake
to find it
as it always was.
Home is where YOU are
home is not the walls
or the view
it's not the couch
or the photos on the wall.

If everything left in
a flood of flame
would be
the only
I save.

OK, maybe the dog, too.
He's kinda cute.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

In situ - 160

She’s running late
seems scattered
a little too chatty.
this two hour overview
stretches to 3 hours -

and a writing assignment.
Red Asphalt, anyone?


It was parent's day/orientation at driver's training.
Having spent over 60 hours in the passenger seat with the boy,
I'm pretty confident that he'll do very well.

Until, that is, we sit through 3 VERY long hours of content
and stories plus videos with lots of blood.
And there's more to come - 45 hours worth!

If not for texting back and forth with my partner in boredom,
I might have had to kill someone. With my car.

Monkey Man
writes themes in 160 characters, including spaces.
It's probably all that texting across the classroom that inspires him.

Visit him and give it a go, if you're brave enough - it's not as easy as it looks!