The deathbed feels like such a welcome place, though the medical team around her does not accept it as such. She wants to ask them not to poke all those needles in a body she would soon discard, but the oxygen mask prevents her from speaking. In retrospect, life has been a series of wondering … Continue reading The Last Leg
The moon crashed with a thud tonight, and clouds murmured secrets from other worlds through whispering windows on Earth. I was lucky enough to catch a piece of the moon and stash it away in the drawer for dark nights. I can hear its silent screams, asking for release. The broken moon in the sky … Continue reading A sliver in the drawer
wintry shades recedeskin breathesin sunlight summertime huesweave gregarious patternsovertake early nights islands of thoughtconnect as the ice meltsrelationships thaw Moonwashed Weekly Prompt
“Who spun this web around my dreams? Delusions increase the gap between perspectives. One cannot view things from the other side. Walking in another’s shoes is a remote dream. It is a mental state in which imagination is a mild term. Hallucinations lead to lowly acts that one would not think of otherwise.” There was … Continue reading Devil at the Doorstep
“It is only a moment, not a day,” says Frank. I started wondering about the tapestry of moments we call a day and how we differentiate those from the night. Life is just a series of moments without reference to the sun's movement. The longest nights happen inside. solsticeswon't change equationssun deceives Haibun Monday
The escalator was not working today, and each step felt … different, if not painful. It enhanced awareness of the journey without looking at a hand-held screen. I glanced at the other side and watched people alight quickly as if they enjoyed the process. I’m unsure if downward movement is always a joy, but it … Continue reading Steps
Save them, someone …for I’m not in control Frankensteins rule the worldChanging algorithms at willWe needed them to scare the enemyBut now …Are they friends or new enemies? I still use them as a toolto shrug responsibilityto escape accountabilityand blame them for all the messthat secretly serves my purpose Tell them, someoneThat I’m not in … Continue reading Who is in control?
words dried upbefore hitting the Express buttonturn rancidin anticipationof being held accountablefor every comma and pause words interruptedbefore the completion of a sentenceshrivel upin despair knowingtheir spirit goes unheardwhile letters hang mid-air words accumulatedunspoken, buried aliveflare upin rage to become a firethat consumes the speakerbut who cares anyway? Sunday Confessionals
Creative Experiments and More 