Above is not upon, nor arching over…



“This is Not a Bridge”

Collage. 2019.

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Sunday between the ponds



Time works in strange ways;
Nothing much to speak of when you, have it;
Yet lose it, and it’s the only thing, you want back.
The final day of the week used to be the same.
Everything closed down;
Nowhere to go quickly; unless it was church,
And you had something to confess…
It was easy to cross the street;
No need to look both ways back then;
Most cars were either being washed or fixed;
Sometimes both at the same time;
If you had parents like mine…
Fixing it, was a religion, for him;
Complaining about it;
A moral victory for her…
What a beautiful mess;
Being somewhere in the middle.
Time moved slowly on a Sunday;
Have a good one;
And it felt like a week’s vacation.
Have a bad one;
And you felt as if you were on death row,
Screaming for the judge,
To take it all away…

Cherry Blossom Clinic



No more fear
Fly somewhere else
in arabesque
Drinking tea...
Fit to leave
No stepping back
Two cases
One box
One button per sleeve
immediate fail.

Penny in the box
A slug couldn't climb it...

Treatment
a success.

Move on
to something else
Distraction
A tidy mind
reaching
Is a pleasant find
therapy. sip, sip.
One more biscuit
can't cause any harm.

All calls may be monitored.

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