Hey for today

Hey for today

One day he ran
He ran very far away
Wondering if his family
Needed his stay

Fearless.
He should have been.

Soon, he looked back:
He heard a song
He was sitting on a stool
Holding a drink
He was singing along

He wondered why?!
He could not be there

I still see the back of you
Guiding and leading the pack
We biked miles to the beach 
We could say anything!
Any old thing—is the thing
To each other—to anybody

Anything but: Goodbye

Hopefully, we are all okay
Yesterday was quite the memory
Wishing so hard we could go back
Oh, but the pictures we have

The cement treadmill underneath us
Moments, never forgotten
Why did they turn dark and grey?

Why do the colors of life go away?

The only thing that matters for now
Is that we still say
Hey for today


Z

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25

25

Felt so great
To be alive
Dancing on tables
Reckless, but totally fine
Dreams that were planted
Grew strong in bright light
Confidently standing—
I was 25
Survival was pretty
Flowed just like water
Every little thing
Was going to be alright

If I could go back
And speak to me at 25
34 me would say:
Breathe it all in, man
Today is the day
Shake it and take it 
As much as you can
You can do anything
You’re only 25!
Just like I wanted
To say to 19 me—

When I was 25


Z

Prayers for Mary

Prayers for Mary

5 out of 7 days
She was there
Sitting, wiggling about
Working in her chair
A total pro
Selling her web
Killing the numbers
A diner burger and coffee
Never neglected
On her lunch hour
I know nothing she said
Now, I have nothing
Only best wishes 
For Mary
She pops in my head
Here and there
Hearing the things 
She would say
The scratching of scratch-offs
Cigarette walks with the dogs
—Hers was called Trouble
Oh, I used to have fun
I know all about fun
So, she covered for me 

While I napped on a leather couch
Lucky winners we were to know her
Now, there is nothing?
I hear she is not all there
When she was always there
I do know one thing thing:
I have so many prayers
For Mary


Z

Night of Cynthia

IMG_5207 (1)
Birdhouse
Birdcage

Night of Cynthia

She carries pain
In a designer handbag
Minds are left bound in a trap
I hated the hatred I felt one night
Deceived by superficial beauty
Beauty of Cynthia

She cuts through guts
To her, we’re hers
She dines on
Our vulnerable meat
What a surprise
Under porcelain skin hides
A foul and gluttonous sin

Sin of Cynthia

In a pricey restaurant
Red wine dripped down

Seductive, blood red lips
With the wipe of a napkin
She stood up in black heels
She flew off and she grew

Smaller and smaller
There was no trace left

Left of Cynthia

The curse of the witch

Left my trembling hands with a wish:
To stab evil with my dinner knife 
But, I’m not like her
She’ll sleep tight—she is free

To wake up and hunt prey so naive
Check paid, I went home
Trying to forget the night
Night of Cynthia  


 

Z

A New Dream


A New Dream

So many dreams
Held so very tight
Headed to the future
Floating toward light
But one day,
He looked down
A bowl now empty
Wondering where to go
Thanking God
He still had feet
Hold still for the photo
Smile big—
They all said
Peeking around each corner
Listening to every sound
Tasting all the moments
Waiting
Painfully waiting
For a new dream
To be found


Z

Postcards from the Past

Recently, my Grandma gave me an envelope full of postcards from the early 1900’s.  Most of them are from her side of the family. The photo above is a spread of them. The penmanship, images, and every crease or rip are just so exciting to me. I love moments from the past and a postcard is a beautiful piece of mail from a person saying, “Hey, I’m somewhere on this planet — thinking of YOU.” Kind of a lost art. But, I have to say, these are a stunning argument to bring it back.

Below is my absolute favorite of the bunch. I had so many feelings when I held this particular one. The man walking away is such a powerful image and I stared at it for quite some time. I believe these postcards carry messages worth keeping.