and i
are exhausted
my mother's-
her mother's, too-
my name newly pressed
within the cover
next to theirs-
ink etchings-
fading
leaving behind
an imprint-
their knowledge-
freely given
for the future
and by now,
turned pages
folded
marking time-
four generations-
tearing
adding to yellow pages
strokes of dignity
matching their age
19 June 2010
13 June 2010
Feel Good Florence
The wind at the top of Giotto's Tower in Florence whipped around Janet, tossing her hair in a hundred different directions. She leaned over the railing and looked down at the people in the streets below. She knew that many of them were tourists, but the beauty of the city and the sense of freedom she got from the wind and the height left her feeling uncharacteristically romantic.
Having spent the last two days lamenting the percentage of tourists in the Italian cities she had explored, her usual cynicism faded as she climbed the steep steps toward the highest outlook. A smile grew on her face as the last bit of that day's dose of cynical rambling was blown away by a gust of wind that sent her toppling backwards – into the arms of her boyfriend, Patrick. Wrapping his arms around her, he nuzzled her thick, curly hair and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the aroma of hotel shampoo mingled with the perfume he had bought her for their first anniversary. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “anything interesting down there?”
“Everything,” she replied.
He leaned forward over her shoulder to look down just as the wind sent a particularly powerful gust toward them, pushing them together again. In unison, they breathed in the heavy air as massive, dark gray rain clouds began to roll in. The couple watched as the tiny people and mopeds turned into tops of umbrellas and deserted roads.
Janet and Patrick moved away from the open area as the raindrops began to sting their faces. Once inside, they managed to find space between a quiet, camera-ready Japanese family flashing pictures at everything and a fat American man conversing loudly with the family on a bench nearby about the latest golf news, specifically Tiger Woods. The young couple exchanged a glance, and, standing up, Janet sighed, “let's find somewhere else.” Patrick chuckled softly as he took her hand and followed her down the stairs to the level below.
On the second highest level, there was less shelter from the rain and no seating, but there were also fewer people, so Janet and Patrick found a space by themselves and stood watching their fellow visitors. The wet floor kept everyone mutually entertained as they slipped and slid their way around the marble flooring to space and the stairs. The rain pounded against the tower, and even the areas protected by the structure itself were being sprayed with water splashing against the outer walls. Janet turned to Patrick and gasped in surprise as a gust of wind threw a bucket-full of water onto his shirt, soaking him to the skin. He dropped her hand as she began to laugh.
“Oh come on! Dammit...”
Janet couldn't stop laughing. Doubled over, she heaved, attempting to catch her breath. His white shirt was now transparent and his pants looked like he had wet himself.
“Oh yeah?” he asked, moving toward her with a glimmer of mischief in his eye.
Janet shrieked as he grabbed her around the waist and squeezed her struggling body against his wet self. Finally pushing him off, she looked down at her wet dress and then back up at him, glaring with as much fire behind her eyes as she could manage. Patrick just barely began to laugh when a palm slapped him across the face, and as his eyes readjusted, a pursed-lipped Janet came into focus.
“Yeah,” she said. A tense moment passed between the two, soon followed by both of them beginning to smile at the same time. Patrick slid one arm around her waist and pulled her close, lifting her chin with his free hand.
“I love you,” he said.
“Mmhmm, you better,” she replied.
She lifted herself onto her toes to meet his lips as he leaned in to kiss hers softly, moving his hand around to the nape of her neck. With that touch, she closed her eyes and kissed him harder until he gently let her lips go. Landing back down on both feet, she leaned back as his hands released her, her eyes still closed. His hands slid down her arms and to her hands, and she began to open her eyes. She always loved looking at him, whether or not pretending being mad at him, and as she refocused, she watched him lean down to settle on one knee.
“Janet,” he said, reaching into his pocket, retaining eye contact with her, “I have something to ask you...”
Having spent the last two days lamenting the percentage of tourists in the Italian cities she had explored, her usual cynicism faded as she climbed the steep steps toward the highest outlook. A smile grew on her face as the last bit of that day's dose of cynical rambling was blown away by a gust of wind that sent her toppling backwards – into the arms of her boyfriend, Patrick. Wrapping his arms around her, he nuzzled her thick, curly hair and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the aroma of hotel shampoo mingled with the perfume he had bought her for their first anniversary. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “anything interesting down there?”
“Everything,” she replied.
He leaned forward over her shoulder to look down just as the wind sent a particularly powerful gust toward them, pushing them together again. In unison, they breathed in the heavy air as massive, dark gray rain clouds began to roll in. The couple watched as the tiny people and mopeds turned into tops of umbrellas and deserted roads.
Janet and Patrick moved away from the open area as the raindrops began to sting their faces. Once inside, they managed to find space between a quiet, camera-ready Japanese family flashing pictures at everything and a fat American man conversing loudly with the family on a bench nearby about the latest golf news, specifically Tiger Woods. The young couple exchanged a glance, and, standing up, Janet sighed, “let's find somewhere else.” Patrick chuckled softly as he took her hand and followed her down the stairs to the level below.
On the second highest level, there was less shelter from the rain and no seating, but there were also fewer people, so Janet and Patrick found a space by themselves and stood watching their fellow visitors. The wet floor kept everyone mutually entertained as they slipped and slid their way around the marble flooring to space and the stairs. The rain pounded against the tower, and even the areas protected by the structure itself were being sprayed with water splashing against the outer walls. Janet turned to Patrick and gasped in surprise as a gust of wind threw a bucket-full of water onto his shirt, soaking him to the skin. He dropped her hand as she began to laugh.
“Oh come on! Dammit...”
Janet couldn't stop laughing. Doubled over, she heaved, attempting to catch her breath. His white shirt was now transparent and his pants looked like he had wet himself.
“Oh yeah?” he asked, moving toward her with a glimmer of mischief in his eye.
Janet shrieked as he grabbed her around the waist and squeezed her struggling body against his wet self. Finally pushing him off, she looked down at her wet dress and then back up at him, glaring with as much fire behind her eyes as she could manage. Patrick just barely began to laugh when a palm slapped him across the face, and as his eyes readjusted, a pursed-lipped Janet came into focus.
“Yeah,” she said. A tense moment passed between the two, soon followed by both of them beginning to smile at the same time. Patrick slid one arm around her waist and pulled her close, lifting her chin with his free hand.
“I love you,” he said.
“Mmhmm, you better,” she replied.
She lifted herself onto her toes to meet his lips as he leaned in to kiss hers softly, moving his hand around to the nape of her neck. With that touch, she closed her eyes and kissed him harder until he gently let her lips go. Landing back down on both feet, she leaned back as his hands released her, her eyes still closed. His hands slid down her arms and to her hands, and she began to open her eyes. She always loved looking at him, whether or not pretending being mad at him, and as she refocused, she watched him lean down to settle on one knee.
“Janet,” he said, reaching into his pocket, retaining eye contact with her, “I have something to ask you...”
05 June 2010
Women and Rats
winter is coming skinnier every day
a rat dead in a cot and none can tell
so that none will come to take it
though its skin only just covers
the toothpick bones, no tail
patched fur and sunken eyes
it must have crawled in sometime
to feel warm before dying
last thoughts of cheese or olives?
or maybe the Spam hidden
under the Kommandant’s bed
next to the pornographic magazines
collected upon entry
or even the final tinge of nicotine
from the broken tins of reserve
cigarettes for the women
the women who visit in the winter
skinnier every day so that no one
will come to take them and their
toothpick bones that rattle in fear
of the dead rat in a cot
a rat dead in a cot and none can tell
so that none will come to take it
though its skin only just covers
the toothpick bones, no tail
patched fur and sunken eyes
it must have crawled in sometime
to feel warm before dying
last thoughts of cheese or olives?
or maybe the Spam hidden
under the Kommandant’s bed
next to the pornographic magazines
collected upon entry
or even the final tinge of nicotine
from the broken tins of reserve
cigarettes for the women
the women who visit in the winter
skinnier every day so that no one
will come to take them and their
toothpick bones that rattle in fear
of the dead rat in a cot
Welcome
This blog exists as a reinvention of myself and a rededication to my craft. It is here for your enjoyment as well as my edification. I hope that as you read through my work, you will find the desire and the time to comment on things you like, don't like, think should change, etc.
Thank you for visiting! Enjoy!
Thank you for visiting! Enjoy!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)