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 urge

I’m too old to get weird, I suppose. But that’s what my core is telling me. Write. Meet with people. Travel. Wear whatever feels right. To me. I want to spend hours reading, thinking, meditating. I want to reach another level of fulfillment without going the standard way of religion or wakefulness or any of the other scripted horseshit ways people seem to go. … More the urge

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

Christmas at School

My kids practiced for weeks. Learned the songs, The melodies, timing, and the harmony. And they discovered how beautiful it is Just to sing and feel and share. Not only now, During the season of light and presents and good food and drinks and forgiveness and Love, But always. So, I was pretty fucking proud … More Christmas at School