*To a slow jazz tune* Last night I was dreaming I was singing not on Broadway or a big stage just somewhere with ears to hear Maybe quivre'n with fear like me like me. I was dreaming I was singing like I use to in a small school strong with youth. In perfect harmony all … Continue reading Dreaming of Singing (song)
What options are left in times like these? When I have sunken down so deep the sunlight cannot reach and I can't see any rising bubbles. I go right, it's still black I go left, might as well turn back, and, perhaps, I hadn't turned at all. So, do I sink or do I float? … Continue reading Stuck in the Deep
You have my summers, My pre-school years, And all the baby moments Still trapped behind ears. Broad fingers giving illusions That your hands are big, Fit for holding A baby. You say I was one Once. An angel. Hands to hold an angel. But I came in to hug you Now, then, not long at … Continue reading Grandpa
My love, You were raised with your father's ideals but by your mother's pragmatism. When talents first bud upon your hands, you clapped for joy and squished them between your palms, making room for more, but not height for growth. My love, You spy the light on the other side with delight, for look, a … Continue reading Wet Wings
My eldest son, when he was not quite two, loved crushing the daisies that grow like dandelions in coastal Oregon. He'd yank them up, then crush them with a satisfied "Doh!" Yeah, probably the cutest thing on the whole dang planet. But, then again, I'm his mother. Biased to the extreme. Yet, at the same … Continue reading Remember to Crush the Daisies
You dream so many things. Leaving me to hold my tongue and confess I don't believe. Because you dream to cope, and I dream for direction. You, to imagine meaning to your strife. And I to put a place to strive for. You don't remember, I can't forget. That I in my weakness can only … Continue reading My Spouse, the Dreamer
Just writing up my list and crunching the numbers that mama says won't change for the next twenty years, so get comfortable. She might as well have said: "You'll always be poor, sweetheart, and we all know there ain't no charm in it." Bread winner training for a job his own sick brain won't let … Continue reading Crunching Pride
Father says that like our ancestors who left the homeland to seek out better opportunity, he is leaving the States to a country that's poor, but desperate, for a money-making opportunity. I can only listen as I hold my baby, which he barely sees, and wonder why this land isn't enough for him. Father says … Continue reading What Father Says About Living
It’s so quiet after the loud music stops playing and the curtains finally fall. I can feel myself again in the lack of sound. I can finally hear myself breathe. I’m not sure what to say. The stage had been filled with them, though. Them: the sex goddesses. Or at least acolytes to her vast … Continue reading Chicago
Back in the days when I knew the passion confused boy, we had a story-telling dream. The details didn't seem all that clear to me, as they always are for those starting to believe in their ambitions, but he seemed to have a grasp enough on it to know that, wherever we went, we'd be … Continue reading Not a Demon
Author T.S. Lowe 