Written in 1984, this is another expression of my grief of losing my grandmother.
Loss.
A missing piece
of the puzzle.
A knot
in the throat.
A Demon
in the gut.
An unfulfilled need.
A missing.
A not there.
A silent scream.
Anger.
Grief.
Deprivement.
A barrier to cross
some day
Yet crossed by another
today.
Erg! This is more difficult than I had originally thought. Oh, well. Better late than never! 52 Haiku! Was I on drugs or something? Nope. Just plain crazy. Originally posted on 52 Haiku
Written Feb. 24, 1992. High upon a mountain my heart waits for you chained to a rock like Faye awaiting Kong Then they come picking and rending pieces of my heart They fly away like vultures with bits of Promethean liver hanging from their mouths I endure For how can I not? Like a modern…
Written in 1983. Home is where the heart is, I hear people say. But home is something much more. Home is where the joy is. Home is the constant happiness in a changing, hurting world. But I left Home long ago. A Home of grass lands and animals. A Home of many colours in many…
In 1983, I did an independent study focused on my creative writing. I sat behind the teacher as he taught one class, and did my own thing. That’s why I have so much stuff to post from that year. During that course, I seemed quite fixated on war. The Boy was one result. This is…
Written February 28, 1991. Be my daddy and take care of me Be my lover and love me Be my brother Be my friend Be my everything Let me be who I am Who I want to be and tell me what to do Set me free and chain me with you love I will…
Written in 1983. Wastepaper basket filled to the brim with wads of fresh, new paper. Desk cluttered with paper, ink and pencils. A slumped figure snores over a sheet of paper. The words “Once upon a time . . .” are scribbled out on the top line. Looking closer at the wads in the basket,…