Small Change

Excerpt

I started walking, away from the fence. After about fifty yards, I came to an apron of freshly cut grass that bordered a wide road and a neighbourhood of the largest, most beautiful houses I had ever seen. Brick and fieldstone, white clapboard and freshly oiled cedar, some of them three and four storeys high, with ample porches and verandas and sprawling lawns. I limped a bit, but managed to make some progress along the wide, grassy median in the centre of the street I immediately thought of as a thoroughfare. What is this place, I wondered, and who lives here?
They were oddly dressed. The boy wore a striped tee shirt, a white cap which I later learned was a Polo hat, and knickers that were tucked into black stockings just below the knees. Two of the girls wore summer dresses in soft pastels, yellow and sky blue, with puffed shoulders, matching socks, and matching bows in their hair. They had white shoes with ankle straps, not sandals, exactly, but something like, and the third, taller girl wore white court shoes, white shorts with a white leather belt, and a vee necked tee shirt. Her honey blond pony tail hung half way to her waist and was tied with a white band.
I was astonished, but drawn toward them as if by a huge magnet. They seemed like sky children, but were so recognizably earth-bound I wanted to talk with them, to know what their lives were like. Especially her, with the startling eyes.
I stood very still until they became aware that I was watching them. They stared back, then they looked at each other. They seemed puzzled. I crossed back to the sidewalk and started up the lawn that sloped down from their slate grey house. They seemed hypnotized, or stilled by bewilderment, alarmed, but unable to break the spell of my dirty, sweat streaked face, torn jeans and bloody shirt.
Except for her. She looked straight at me, so directly and with such an open stare it stopped me in my tracks. I felt something I’d never felt before. It seeped into my chest and throat from a place I never knew was in me. It was as if I had seen her before, or known her all my life. Her face – the smooth skin, deeply tanned like her arms and legs, the full mouth, high cheekbones, and green, green eyes – burned itself into my memory and what I read there was not fear, but curiosity, because I was strange to her, and concern, because it was clear that I was hurt. There was something else too, and it made my heart accelerate.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763157

Still Waters

excerpt

Tyne felt her heart sink to the top of her loafers. “So what’s to be
done?”
She heard Millie sigh. “We’ll do the best we can, that’s all. I’ll be
there whenever they need me, you can rest assured of that. And Jeff
Milligan won’t get away with any of his nonsense when I’m around.”
Hearing the old feistiness in her aunt’s voice, Tyne almost laughed.
But she sobered quickly. She knew what had to be done. Why had she
asked? A fleeting vision of the future made her weak in the knees as
she saw herself, a few years down the road, as another Miss Stevenson.
Nevertheless, her voice was clear and firm. “I’m coming home to
stay, Aunt Millie. I’ll be on the bus tomorrow afternoon.”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763068

Ugga

three
Three hundred and thirty years before zero
the Great Hellene Conquering General
of Globalization
discovers the concept
and gloriously carries the glorious message
to the Heraclean Steale and beyond.
The conquered wrongly explained
the message of peace
into “Tyrannic Empire”
a small child in the suburb of the Ideal City
thinks of perhaps the march of ideas
may create the wrong precedent
and suddenly against that concept
they start a war: dragons, Jedi, Valkyries, Stymphalian Birds, Craken,
Vampires, chivalrous Knights, Lilliputians, Mermaids, Condors, Orcs
and a blind witch from Bulgaria
and with twelve different bites
they degrade:
the invention of flexible boycott

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676370X

Marginal

Susan
The nipple of the southern wind
wedges its pleat between the lips
of the virgin yet to be kissed and the
innocence of the first night
draws a breath of relief as
the cherry blossoms mourn
for the death of Madame Butterfly
while the young samurai scribes
his funereal three-verse poem
black claws holding onto
flesh and torn muscles
as Susan’s lips lock with mine
the torn hearts sigh when
endless black hides behind
the trivial and the momentary

https://draft2digital.com/book/3747032#print

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1771715987