little boys

Fingers through fences pecked and nibbled and bitten by chickens, beagle pups, and bunnies. We were bare-chested, blonde and tan and we ran barefoot and we ran hard turning green grass brown and flattening the yard   until the ground was hard-packed like pavement. Mom and Dad never had nice things, a tidy house, an … More little boys

swinging

Round-faced and tow-headed. Tan from hours of summer sun. A kid on the swings. Back-and-forth. Little hands wrapped tight. Around the chains. Arms and legs pumping. Eyes closed on the backswing. Open on the return. My first taste of freedom. Like flying. Summer days spent on the swings. Singing Elvis Presley songs. For my Dad, … More swinging

the work around

Sitting with artists. Drinking Seize the Day. Hearing ideas. Sensing stifled thoughts. Frustration simmers just below the surface. As always. All of us just want to do what we love, but politics always come to play. Challenge us. Keep us in line. But if we are as creative as we feel we are, we will … More the work around

early train

The train. It’s 5:59 in the morning, but the train doesn’t care. It’s as if the conductor has a gripe with this town. Our warm and friendly port on the shore of Lake Huron. He’s blasting that horn continuously. Chugging through town with one mission—to make sure everyone’s up as early as he is. Maybe … More early train

winter blues

I can’t work it away. Play it away. Sleep, eat, or pray it away. The closest I get to ever really getting rid of it is by pounding the keys—chipping away at mountains with a pick axe—or by drinking just enough so I’m all warmed up and my senses are numbed so I can finally … More winter blues