The Orange Thread.

Thick orange thread
Like garland on a garment.
A canary-yellow cardigan
Brought down from the basement.

Thick orange thread
Tied on a weathered nail.
Ragged, but full of life,
Like a wild bobcat tail.

Thick orange thread
Around a spool on the shelf.
It's got more character than the others
And looks better by itself.

Frozen Fountain.

A summer freeze.
Instant liquid trees.
Surrounded by pollen and bees
And white mice on skis.

Claws.

A drive-in movie;
The image of a bear without claws,
Action without danger,
A land without laws.
All the good,
But stripped of the bad,
A restaurant with no register
And delicious meals to be had.

The ground is firm and the weather's fair
Go check for lightning, but nothing's there.

A brand new novel;
It's end as good as the beginning.
On every page
The good guys are winning.
But there are no bad guys,
Nobody's being unfair,
And no one is injured,
When you're a clawless bear.

Reach out with arms that have never been twisted,
You could look out for evil, but it never existed.

Tiny Suns.

Tiny suns
Stick like burrs to your clothes.
Being woven into bird nests.
On the shoulders of parrots.
Stored up by chipmunks.
Tiny suns
In a bag of marbles.
Stirred into hot chocolate.
Strung up with pearls.
On the tip of your antenna.

Tiny suns that orbit the day.

Highlands.

The Charging Bull.

Here's one about thinking!

The Charging Bull.

On the plains:
A charging bull moves quickly over the land,
Then pauses to decipher its speed.
The behemoth's brain speaks not until suspended in time,
When not charging to kill or rushing to feed.

In the city:
Worn thin are the faculties of the madman's brain,
And worn thin are his fingernails sheathed.
He claws at the walls and sighs as he falls,
But given time to think, his mind is relieved.

Misstep on Grandview.

     Nathan was never known for his sincerity. He was a well-dressed and well-spoken lout of a man, if such a thing could ever truly exist. His finely tuned swagger was carried out with such finesse that one could easily overlook the viscous, contemptible grease that ran through his veins. Given his disingenuous tendencies, as one might expect, he was frequently maligned by the countless past victims of his acidic charm. On the other hand, those who never had the misfortune would tend to admire his style and his well-structured façade of gentility. Perhaps inevitably, Nathan garnered a considerable amount of female attention. His sexual exploits were countywide and the reputation of such conquests spread even further.

     It was the seventeenth of April, a week and four days after his thirty-second birthday, and Nathan was walking down Grandview Avenue, displaying his manly, yet elegant gait as a male peacock would its feathers. He was basking in the adulation that was thrust at him on any given day. His eyes shifted and focus like a card player, with his face so genuine he could convince the lord that the sky was green.

     Two streets over on Harper Avenue he had a brand new ’51 Victoria, polished and painted, waiting to be driven. Nathan preferred to walk. The day he bought that car, he said to himself, “There’s nowhere worth getting to that a man can’t simply walk to, and there’s nowhere a man can’t simply walk from, either”. With that, he closed the door of his garage and never thought about the car again. Nathan felt no need to spend his time minding traffic laws or speed limits, and surrendering himself to limits and laws was a concept that he would never concern himself with.

     On this day, Amie, a woman with whom he was briefly involved, had requested Nathans presence. Always a fiery and capricious woman, Nathan came to the conclusion that this particular engagement was worth his time. Amie was a slender, brown haired beauty with all the zest of a redhead. She was vivacious, saucy, and most importantly, unpredictable. Nathan never thought that so much spirit could possibly be held in such a svelte frame. The two had a passionate affair weeks prior, and just as his passionate affairs usually go, he had considered this one utterly burnt out. Given Amie’s mercurial bent, the evening could go one of two ways, though there was one possibility that Nathan naturally preferred.

     Nathan slid up the steps to the veranda of her home on the corner of Grandview and Ash. The potted flowers that lined the yellow painted railings were just about the bloom, and there was a cheery brightness to the place that even Nathan was forced to appreciate. The buzzer by the door was a dusty orange, and Nathan felt pretty good pressing it, although it may have been the potential of the evening that truly excited him. The dark behind the glass door was soon replaced by the radiant vision of Amie. She wore a black gown that one might normally see at a cocktail party. She allowed him to absorb the sight for a brief moment before opening the door. He walked in smooth and seemingly un-phased by her appearance, an appearance that would put the women in the newspaper advertisements to shame. There was no goddess of Greek or Roman origin that could rival the way she looked, and she knew it. In stark contrast to the warm beauty of the porch, the inside of her home was sparse. The decorating touch might have even prompted a poor person to call it “bare” or “unlivable”. The living space had a couch that could fit no more than three, a 12 inch black and white television, a lamp, and nothing else. The dining room was decorated in a similar fashion, with a small cabinet for glassware, a table, and four chairs.

     Nathan and Amie sat down at the empty table. After a few seconds of silence, Amie said coldly, “We need to talk”. Nathan’s mood dropped to a new low as he abandoned his eager posture. Clearly this night was not going to pan out as he had so joyously anticipated. Amie saw this shift in his posture and sighed, knowing all too well what he was expecting. She composed herself and continued, “I have never met a man so passionate, daring, and fascinating”.

     Nathan perked up.

     “Then again…”

     Nathan slouched once more.

     “… I have also never met someone so unfeeling and despicable. You made me promises you never intended to keep, all for your own disgusting selfish gains. I will never forgive you, Nathan, but most importantly I can never forgive myself for letting this happen”.

     Almost immediately a thousand methods of escape surged through Nathan’s mind. He was not one to console a hysterical woman, especially one with her eyes filled with such lunacy. He jerked himself out of his escape plans to respond, “Darling, the fires lit with gasoline always burn out the quickest”.

     Amie’s face grew stern and cold. She was slack-jawed by his audacity. Speechless, she shot up, went to the kitchen, and returned with two glasses and a bottle of sherry. “Oh. You prefer bourbon, don’t you?” Nathan nodded. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t keep you”, she said dryly, “We’ll have a farewell drink, then you can go on your merry way”. She left Nathan in the dining room to fetch the bourbon. She filled his glass with a look of thinly veiled fury. He sniffed the bourbon, took a sip, and when the drink passed his lips, he knew immediately that he had messed with the wrong woman. Unfortunately for her, however, she was also messing with the wrong man. The ex-lovers raised their empty glasses, and just as Amie expected, Nathan fell face first into his plate. What Amie was not expecting though, was that moments later, she followed suit.

Air.

Four walls of linked fence,
With the air free to fly through,
Small postcards from hope.