Writing, Ideas, & Stories
“do you want to hear a joke?”
“who doesn’t?”
she paused, lowered her chin
the tv visible for a second-
“viene el centro! buscando al delantero!”
clearing her throat,
“why couldn’t the defense see the futbol?”
the waiter swung around
clearing the wing remains from the table
“mm i do not know, why?”
the bar raised simultaneously,
“because the defense cleared it!”
she fell off her stool
and in her creasing eyes-
“Goooooooaall!!”
new park
same storm-
really just a drizzle
atop a tabletop
with a cigarette bud-
last glare of the sun
before
kidnapped by deadbeat clouds.
honey & vanilla:
couple played on the swings
giddy laughter
their stomps soaked
their bottom halves-
the boy
stopped-
reached into the depths of his pocket-
shivered
a well kept
red note tied with a bow
the girl
stopped-
reached into the depths of his note-
she ate it
and ran away.
serenaded by a robin
smoke ceasing
as the sun peaks past
the over protective clouds-
back against watered boards
held high
a bow
the smoothness around your face
hollow-
pockets below your brows
shallow.
what
why can’t i remember your face
“this one’s for you”
everyone returned to their seats
in a ballroom where oak
holds each couple tight.
“work is good right now, thanks”
“i love that jacket on you, brings out your eyes”
“oh my god, i hope i didn’t leave the stove on”
“te quiero”
“you look, incredible”
“do you have my phone”
lively
humming chatter
towards a vacant
grand piano.
polished white ivories
smooth to the finger tips
playful dance transversely
key in keys
& harmony of jabber.
band in matching suits
brass and strings
awaiting.
sea of eyes
dressed to the nines
vases of filled roases
one for each pair of oak
jam-packed waiters, eaters
lovers.
the couples:
hands in her lap giggling
a single man looking back
staring at their phones
watching the band
sharing a kiss
red turning conversation
holding hands over their cleared oak.
then her.
stunning gold dress to her ankles
bright rose lipstick
long wavy raven hair
never leaving
his
jubilant gaze
before the first
of many
notes.
i only shot photos
in black & white
color escapes my canvas;
stellar collapsed bridges
leading to sinking cites
hills brushed by a gray breeze
& dying trees.
until-
a night at the Exchange
monochrome strobe
smoke & rays
then you;
silky cardinal dress,
polished amber hair,
eyes sleepy royal, brighter than the moon.
now in my darkroom’s ruby glow,
your colors bloom, a permanent print
the hills await a hinted tint,
the grayscale world begins to show
a spectrum lurking, longing within
i see them now, i see them now-
your cardinal, amber, royal light
exposing all my endless nights.
he watched the sunset;
waves crashed against the unaware pier
clouds parted around the waning crescent
drowned sand reached for his pockets like a mugger.
he watched the sunrise;
the waves carried him out-
seagulls called to the morning fishermen
salt and litter crawled around his ears
waves crashed against the unaware pier
day of our showcase
pants hemmed the night before
shirt pressed the night before
day of our showcase
up bright and early;
birds chirped a fresh melody-
a duet-
can’t deny their chemistry-
Juliet.
night of our showcase
must have gotten lost the morning of
changed your mind the morning of
night of our showcase
down, late and groggy;
the foggy night swings-
memory of a duet-
marionette’s heartstrings-
where have you gone, juliet.
you breathe too sweet
galloping toward you like a bear in a red tee.
oh honey honey-
the picnic is you
oh honey honey-
open the jar
it was the night before;
the one you left in your rear view
driving 210 down main
but never went that fast for her.
memories are a crazy thing
one day they’re dreams
the next, nightmare
dread the night.
it was the week before;
like it was yesterday
tail lights chasing
fleeing
from a fear:
fear of leaving more bodies
alive dead npc
didn’t matter;
that life was messy-
-people got hurt,
-wake up.
this is real life,
it was only yesterd-
-that was three years ago
-this is real life,
-wake up.
like a pitched tent-
we hide away:
can hear see smell taste the world
but they can’t touch what we have-
–
around a camp fire, we tell stories
snacks and a heap of pillows
lip service is on the clock
& weeks worth of sleep in an afternoon
–
i like to tell jokes
& you’re so beautiful when you laugh
you know what i like
such a good girl.
–
you’re different out there
& so am i
but here- we are one in the same
a founding titan
Saint's Muse 