midnite blue

the bed was vast, cold and empty
a desert without sand
pillows scattered about like boulders
no comfort for an aching head
and night’s unbroken silence
settles heavily upon the ears
as the human computer caught in a loop
runs captured moments in three quarters time
the blankets provide little warmth
to a heart forever chilled
promises of a better tomorrow
are little comfort to a damaged soul
shattered dreams litter the bedroom floor
like the shredded webs of a hundred spiders
discarded to make way
for another round of freudian nightmares

Ode to Spaghetti O's

my bowl seems so empty
waiting for sustenance
an old fashioned can opener
hand cranked and stubborn
removes a somewhat reluctant lid
revealing the contents within
glistening circular pasta
swimming in a orangish red
faux tomato sauce
a few shakes of the can
followed by a slurping sound
and I am rewarded with
a virtual waterfall of o's
cascading into my saucepan
a pinch or two of garlic salt
and than the piece de resistance
one frankfurter thinly sliced
I stir frequently over an open flame
awaiting the appearance of tiny bubbles
announcing the completion
of the heating process
a handful of fresh parmesan
and I am ready for a quick walk
down memory lane
sleepovers with rick
and our favorite meal
spaghetti o’s and franks
shared over the latest
hardy boy mystery

with one last spoonful
I leave my younger self behind
with a pleasant sigh
I return to my daily routine

forgotten

her heart withers on the vine
unchosen by the multitudes
condemned to solitary confinement
by gods uncaring
she denies their existence
burning their words in effigy
carving her new mantra
into pale and brittle flesh
without the warmth of passion
lacking the sweet pain of love
a soloist, in a world of duets
trapped by desires denied
not three minutes of empty sex
but three hours of intellectual exchange
making love with words
swimming in a sea of ideas
wrapped in blankets of philosophy
her misfortune to arrive
in an era of emptiness
fast food dining
instant communication
married today, divorced tomorrow
little blue pills
created for thirty seconds of darkness
but no quick fix
for a soul forgotten
by a world whose search for reality
led to the empty box
where services are conducted
at eight eastern, seven pacific

damage

not unlike an echo that remains
when the thunder has long passed
words of anger reverberate without discretion
through the souls of young and old
leaving behind unseen faults
damaged bits of human flesh
aftershocks of psychic damage
invoke translucent tears of pain

Summer Evening Soliloquy

an evening breeze whispers amongst the leaves
cool and fresh with a hint of jasmine
a dog barking in response to some unseen twilight visitor
echoed by every other dog within barking distance
a silver and red bird from ontario airport
searching out vistas unknown
hand in hand a young couple passes
summer love captured in their tender words
a baby cries startled by a car alarm
soon to be soothed by its mothers song
vin scully the voice of the season
poetic in his description of the game at chavez ravine
coyotes in a pack yelp and howl
at the rising moon full and orange on the horizon
gun shots and laughter a dichotomy of sound
gathered from a tranquilizer called television
sirens bring about a flash of worry and a quick prayer
for those involved in the immediate crisis
a freight train announces its arrival with a long low whistle
the kind johnny cash always sang about
a gray owl on its evening rounds
a hoot of warning to its future prey
finally the creaks and groans of this old house
settling down for its evening rest

Texas Tooth Step

Circa 1971 I was twelve years old and traveling to Canyon, Texas along with my family. We were going to spend ten days with my step dad’s family on his brother’s farm.

For someone raised in the big city I had no idea what to expect. My grandfather on the other hand seemed to know everything there was to know about Texas. In the weeks leading up to our trip he shared his homespun wisdom concerning the ins and outs of the great lone star state.

“In Texas,” he would say; “You will be hard pressed to find a single tree from horizon to horizon. It is without a doubt the flattest, barest, driest land I have ever had the pleasure of driving across.”

“The insects that call Texas home must have been created by the devil because God would have never allowed such creatures to crawl upon the earth. Cockroaches the size of my thumb. Grasshoppers that sound like a fleet of helicopters just over the horizon. Ants the size of almonds whose bites leave their victims wishing they had never been born. I am telling you the insects alone are enough to prevent me from ever returning to lone star state.”

He seemed to have a tall Texas tale for every situation.

“It is so hot in Texas that the devil prefers hell he claims the climate is much cooler down below.”

“God must have been in a bad mood when he created Texas. Heat, insects and tornados so powerful they will pick up your farm land and all depositing the whole spread in the next county.”

Nope, I did my time in Texas you can have it I will never go back.

Of course when we finally arrived the extent of his exaggerated tales came to light. The farm was covered in cottonwood trees with a stream and small lake occupying a prime spot on the spread.

The insects were just your average garden variety. Nothing we had never seen before.

It was hot but no hotter than the San Gabriel Valley in the middle of the Santa Ana winds. There are tornados but none dropped by for a visit while we were there.

What grandpa failed to mention was the beauty of the land. The clear blue skies dotted with cotton ball clouds. The smell of corn ripening on the stalk. Just waiting for lunchtime and a quick dip in boiling water to satisfy even the finickiest of eaters.

A large, rather muddy field filled with dairy cattle brought a certain charm to the place. Rising with the roosters to help my cousins bring the cows into the milking barn. Running wild while the machines acquired the morning allotment of sweet, fresh milk.
It was the milking barn that led to one of the more memorable and rather painful events of the entire trip.

While waiting for the last of the cows to give up their sweet nectar my cousins and I were playing tag outside the barn. We were running, laughing, yelling basically having a typical fun filled summer morning.

Except no one mentioned that the milk barn was playing, not only playing but currently it. I was running for all I was worth to avoid being tagged, throwing quick glances over my shoulder I never saw the obstacle in my path.

I turned glanced to the front and POW I ran mouth first into an exhaust port sticking out of the barns wall shattering the bottom half of my right front middle tooth. When I say shattered I mean shattered there was not even a recognizable piece of tooth on the ground.

With blood streaming out of my mouth my cousin threw me on the back of his motorcycle and racing back to the sanctuary of the farmhouse. Several bags of ice later and I actually began to look human again. Hardly any swelling but a very sensitive half a tooth to remind me of the day’s events.

Upon our return to LA the dentist wrapped my tooth in some god-awful piece of silver, hermetically sealing my tooth for years to come.

Musing in Action

My muse is missing.

For several days now I have been museless. Somewhere, somehow I misplaced her. Where I have no idea.

I visited several local lost and found in search of her.

I found seven pairs of reading glasses, along with three bras in a fast food franchise bag. There was a lightening bolt earring, a torn and battered copy of The Da Vinci Code and a pack of dissolving breath strips. Someone else misplaced a calculator, several people are walking around without their cell phones and one religious person is missing their rosary.

All of these ownerless items and no muse to be found, where else could I search?

I drove to several of my favorite writing locations. Several hours spent walking around the local lake, sitting on a swing in Heritage Park and meditating beside a singing brook. To my despair my muse was still missing in action.

Failure greets me at every turn. A muse is rare and beautiful creature one not easily replaced. What was I to do?

Dreams. Maybe that is the ticket, search the landscapes of my dreams and maybe I will find my muse frolicking in the cotton candy clouds.

So with what little sleep I managed to find I dived into the sea of my dreams. I spoke to aliens from the planet Multar, famous for their frozen quanta dip. I climbed Mt. Arlot with seven legged wigin discussing quantum physics and the undead. Eventually I found myself bathing in a chocolate stream with a flock of river wrens soaring in the clouds.

Nope, checked every dreamscape I could create and my muse was not to be found. Apparently I was going to have to move forward without her inspiration, attempting to write in a desert free of original ideas.

Of course once I gave up looking for her I found her almost instantaneously. I had inadvertently zipped her up inside of my backpack when returning my journal.

Boy was she mad.

Crown of Swallow's

A parent will go to great lengths to save money when dollars are hard to come by.

When I was a child I was blessed with horrible dental problems. For whatever reason I was born with little or no enamel on my teeth. My first dentist visit found me with a mouthful of cavities. Basically every baby tooth had some degree of decay.

After discussions with my mother it was decided that my four front teeth would be pulled, as they would be coming out soon enough anyway. The rest of the teeth would be repaired over a several month span.

Before long I was making weekly visits to the dentist for drilling to be followed by fillings made from mercury, which was the flavor of the day. Two of the back teeth required crowns due to longevity expectations.

All the work was followed by lectures from mom and from the dental personnel on watching what I eat and proper care of my mouth. Especially restricted was the chewing of gum, taffy or any other sticky type substance.

Of course being a kid within a week the first thing I did was buy some taffy from the ice cream truck. It only took an afternoon before one of the crowns was missing and presumed lost.

My mother of course was furious with me. We retraced my steps of the past afternoon in search of the missing silver but to no avail. The problem was that as a single mom, my mother could not afford to replace a crown that had already cost her an arm and a leg.

Since we were unable to locate the crown she came up with an alternate plan. Logically she figured if the crown was not locatable outside of my mouth I must of swallowed it. Therefore, until it was located flushing became a distant memory. Mom insisted on checking each and every bowel movement until the crown was located.

To my disgust and amazement two days later she found the crown. After cleaning, boiling and sterilization she returned with me to the dentist where the crown was returned to its home.

I would like to say I learned my lesson but what kid ever really does. I continued eating the forbidden foods but fate smile on me and that was the one and only crown I ever lost.

First Step Into Oblivion

I stood trembling beside a ladder that appeared, at least to my six year old eyes to touch the clouds.

Beside me stood a giant in red bathing trunks with white stuff on his nose and dark sunglasses urging me to begin climbing. My eyes turned toward the grandstand searching for my mother expecting her to rescue me.

To my surprise she was urging me on. Telling me not to be afraid. To climb the ladder, that nothing would happen.

I was alone.

The enormity of the task before me sank in and instinctually I grabbed hold of the ladder with my little arms and legs. I decided right than and there I was not going anywhere.

The evil white nosed giant continued in vain to plead his case that climbing the ladder was necessary and that nothing in this grand little adventure would bring me to harm. In response I turned on my six year old water works. Tears began to flow, my nose began to run and I began to wail as loud as my little lungs would allow.

Seeing that logic had failed to dissuade me from chosen course of action the red suited one grabbed my little body and began to physically carry me up the ladder. The higher he climbed the louder I screamed.

Upon reaching the top he released me, which allowed me to throw my body onto the platform and refuse to get up. My undeveloped mind should have at this point realized that I had already lost the battle and surrendered to the inevitable. Survival instincts trump logic every time though and I refused to surrender.

Exasperated by this point, the white noised giant picked me up in his huge arms and carried me to the edge. I looked back at my mom and all she did was wave. Escape was futile I realized.

I remember being told to hold on and than the two of us took that first step into oblivion.

The fall happened so fast there was not even time for my short life to pass before my eyes. One moment we were airborne the next I was coughing and spluttering as we came up for air.

The lifeguard swam me to the edge of the pool and the waiting arms of my mother.

Mom (revised)

She was a mother of three before her twenty-sixth birthday. Before her twenty-eighth birthday she sent her alcoholic husband packing, supporting her children on her own.

She worked night's car hopping and waitressing. By day she changed diapers, dried tears and did what she could to be the best mom and dad she could. Before long she landed a job as a teller, which without much thought or planning led to a career in banking.

She was den mother, little league booster and mother confessor. She sewed costumes. She taught phonics. With little assistance she was able to purchase her own house.

She dated but if the man she was seeing expressed no interest in her children he was sent packing. One night at the lodge with her boyfriend, she heard about an upcoming trip destination Palm Springs. She asked her beau to take her and the kids. He offered take her but wanted to leave the kids at home. A man sitting to her right spoke up and said he would love to take her and the kids. She agreed and so innocently enough the foundation was laid for her life’s love.

Before long they were married moving into a bigger house. She worked long and hard to make her new life work and to her surprise it did. Her children grew and developed into responsible young adults. At the bank she found herself in management and began taking classes to facilitate her climb up the corporate ladder.

Just when the future seemed written in stone health problems developed. She contracted breast cancer. After a mastectomy she went back to work and began chemo treatments. After six months the cancer was in remission and after five years she was cancer free. He had a heart attack.

The children moved out and life began to mellow. Now that it was just the two of them they began to travel. Cruises and cross-country drives. They had a pool and a Jacuzzi put in at the house so they could entertain their friends.

They began to look forward to retirement but before any firm plans could be considered he developed lung cancer. In what seemed to be the blink of an eye she was a widow at forty-eight. She continued to work, moving up through the bank. She spent time with her children and with her grandchildren. She bought a place near Laughlin, Nevada along the Colorado river where she spent her weekends relaxing.

As the corporate world changed she retired young, sold her house and moved to the river full time. Before she became too comfortable in her new life of leisure she had a major heart attack and a second mastectomy when breast cancer returned.

Life settled into a comfortable routine her health was good and she spent her free time visiting her eight grandchildren, her great-grandchild and playing the occasional hand of video poker.

Than as life is apt to do another roadblock was thrown up in her path. Bone cancer was diagnosed and it appeared that a majority of the bones were involved. Treatment was designed to prevent spreading rather than defeat the disease. Monthly injections, radiation and various medications to combat the extreme pain have become a fact of life.

She has faced her latest illness in the same manner she approached every battle she ever faced in life. With pride, with dignity and with honor, if there is a way to defeat this monster she will find it. She never quits.

She is a wonderful person and I am proud to call her mom.

Originally posted: May 9, 2004

Revised: May 8, 2005

Reading (revised)

Growing up I was fortunate enough to have not one but two mentors who picked me up by the bootstraps and deposited me on the road of imagination and literacy. They opened my eyes to the power of the written word and the magic of storytelling. Without realizing it they planted the seed, which eventually grew into my own fledgling desire to explore the inner recesses of my own mind and transcribe what I found onto a blank page.

The first and most important of these mentors was my mother.

Reviewing my report card upon the completion of first grade she saw that I had done well in every subject reading. Reading was my Mount Everest an obstacle that had proved daunting in my initial attempt requiring my return to base camp.

The summer after first grade was not only the most miserable but also the most rewarding summer of my life. Each and every morning my mother sat me down for four to five hours and drilled me. Phonics lessons were followed by more phonics lessons it seemed to me an endless chain.

I would cry. I would scream. I would beg and complain but her commitment to me never wavered. She sat patiently with me day after day. Drying my tears, calming my nerves and planting seeds. Miraculously, half way through the summer something suddenly clicked, the seeds blossomed and amazingly enough began to bear fruit.

My rebellion ceased, I began to enjoy the lessons and became more than eager to apply them to my every day world. We graduated from phonics, to Dick and Jane, to Dr. Seuss and beyond. By the end of summer I could be found at the breakfast table slurping down cereal while perusing the local paper and checking the standings to see how my beloved Dodger's were doing.

THANKS MOM.

I never new the name of my second mentor, or if I did I have long since forgotten it. She was a librarian at the Live Oak Library located in Arcadia, California.

This was the library of my youth. I spent many hours browsing the stacks in search of new adventures, new friends to discover and new lands to explore. By the time I reached the fifth grade I had completed the entirety of the children’s section and my wandering eyes began to drift towards the adult half of the library.

One day the above-mentioned librarian happened upon me browsing through the adult section and promptly escorted me back to the children's section. Upon my next visit I once again headed straight for the adult section. The same librarian discovered me but this time she sat down and asked me what was wrong with the children's section.

I went on to explain to her that I had read all of those books and that I was desperate for something new to read. At first she did not believe me but upon checking the cards, to her surprise she found that I had as I claimed read most if not all of the age appropriate books.

So we made a deal. She promised that if I allowed her to assist me in picking out books that I could as many books as I desired. We shared a smile and we shook on it.

THANKS TO LIBRARIANS EVERYWHERE.

First appeared: February 2004

Revised: May 7, 2005

Nana Flashback (revised)

In honor of Mother's Day I am revisiting three pieces from last year. This one about my maternal grandmother and two about my mom.

Before my grandmother became tangled in the web of Alzheimer's there were various incidents that were either early signs of the disease or normal changes that come with age. As with all seniors citizens there came a time when her driving skills began to erode and we as a family were left to decide when the keys should be taken away.

We were luckier than quite a few families who have made their way into the headlines after an aged parent was involved in some sort of automobile accident. We put off the inevitable for to long but fortunately God or fate smiled upon my grandmother because when her accident occurred no one was hurt.

One early spring morning she climbed into her yellow sedan anticipating a relaxing afternoon at her Senior Citizens club. At this point in the story it is important to understand the layout of her property. Her garage was attached to the house with the back wall of the garage facing Tenth Avenue. In order to reach the street she needed to back out of the garage and loop around the house

Placing the key in the ignition, she started the car and allowed the engine to warm up. Nana only drove cars with automatic transmissions and when she went to select reverse, she went right past the R and ended up in neutral. She depressed the accelerator and of course nothing happened. At this point she must have panicked because when she shifted gears again she went right into drive with the engine fully revved. The skid marks she left covered floor of her garage and went right thru the wall.

In the front yard located just outside the rear wall of the garage were three trees. Somehow she missed all of them and continued across the lawn. Separating the lawn from the sidewalk was a low brick and wrought iron wall. She went through that like a hot knife through warm butter and into the street.

Tenth Avenue was fairly busy but fortunately no one was coming in either direction. As she crossed the street she managed to regain some control over the car and somehow turned the steering wheel hard to the right. She made a u-turn jumped the curb and flipped the car onto the passenger side door coming to rest right in the middle of her own driveway.

When the police arrived she was sitting on the passenger door calmly asking for someone to help her out of the car. She walked away without a scratch. The only casualty: her driver's license.

First appeared: May 13, 2004

Revised: May 6, 2005

insane love

a lonely time
in another place
lost in a moment
tears on you face
what can you do
where can you go
when nothing is left
except the lies you know
give up the fight
never let go
set it free
never say goodbye
give love a chance
never ask why
the idea may be crazy
emotions don’t lie
with the onset of heartache
the distribution of pain
love can make you happy
or leave you on the edge of sanity

mystic

falling tears
a loony bird
teenage fears
no more dates
tomorrows a year
we lost a day
the end is near
forget the light
climb the tier
electric shock
honey dear
no more sex
the mummy leers
so she cries
stroll the pier
say goodbye
the air is clear
her mind is gone
murmured prayers
a bird once lost
try to steer
the wheel is flat
fold the square
caffeine’s the drug
the mood is gone
the rabbit is dead
and yesterday the swallows
returned to capistrano

big bang boom

green palm fronds
yellow, crabby crows
what time is the christening
no one seems to know
one more name
another place
how can we replicate
the late, great human race
a crazy, mixed up bag
of luck and evolution
water, dirt and mud
mother earth’s contribution
the right hand of god
amoeba, frogs and fish
all thrown together
in some divine petri dish
one large explosion
big bang boom
was it all to easy
did we grow up to soon
the nuclear age
is right here, right now
someone could drop the bomb
destroying the sacred cow
hold on to the rails
while riding life’s roller coaster
mankind is but a slice of bread
in some long forgotten cosmic toaster

bittersweet

bittersweet
lovers weep
broken hearts
quarterbacks sneak
faded lights
another week
Christmas eve
children peek
at the crystal ball
where wise men seek
forgotten answers
where whispers leak
before the mist
a voice is heard
“hello out there
my silly friends
what do you seek
a mercedes benz
or a cadillac
maybe a hummer to
it does not matter
what I have to offer
is three empty coffins
any volunteers”