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Lessons for flying and divingMy best friend is a big fan of diving. Me, I'm more of a flying guy. The only difference is that when flying you're not supposed to plummet in the end. I can't say I ever understood the fear of heights. It's the depths that really get to me.

The last time my best friend went diving he forgot to come back. I'm still waiting. They tell me he's going to rise up some day. He better have, so that I can finally teach him to fly. There's just one trick to it: don't fall. That ain't no rocket science.Lessons for flying and diving6 years ago in Literature Submissions

ProgressWe shuffle a few paces forward - before coming to a halt again - along a rutted path crawling through a dried-out landscape towards the gates of the Arboretum that lies, so they say, somewhere in the distance. Around me I can hear a few of the Pilgrims muttering a quiet prayer, but mostly people are silent, huddled in their suits, conserving their strength and numbly waiting their turn.

I’m bored, tired, and irritable and I ache all over my body. Sweat puddles inside my helmet.

“Tell story! Tell it! Tell Jesus story!”

A little red and angry face peers up at me through a smeared and dusty faceplate. A little hand tugs at theProgress6 years ago in Literature Submissions

Fuujin, the Anemophiles

Captive island child,
metamorphosis, wings grown,
wind-borne lovemaking.Fuujin, the Anemophiles6 years ago in Literature Submissions

Shredded From Lifethe strand of life ripped
taken from what life was, now
by the soul, one treeShredded From Life6 years ago in Literature Submissions

Progress: A Drink
They’re calling for change.

The bracelets on my wrists weigh my hands down.

“You can drink anything you put your mind to,” they say as I stumble against the doorframe, against the shoulder of a man.
My drink tumbles out of its glass and onto his shirt and I sputter. I laugh. I blush the deepest red and I say, “I’ve never done this before.”

“You’re out of your league, baby,” he says, smiling with his hands coming toward me like claws and suddenly my shoulders feel too soft and I know I wasn’t meant for this sort of change.Progress: A Drink6 years ago in Literature Submissions

Seachoppy sea lines
form splashing circles
as he jumpsSea6 years ago in Literature Submissions

darknessDarkness

María watched the dark figure approach.

“I’m here to bring you back.”

She turned away. Red dust blew above the ground. Far away stood the shadowy fossil of some ancient tree.

“It’s unsafe out here. You could be exposed to the virus.”

María nodded calmly.

“What if I prefer to be unsafe?” she asked then, turning to look at the figure. It stood still, breathing from a tank of purified oxygen. Its face, his face, was shielded by a helmet, like the one María held. She tossed it to the ground.

“Goodbye,” she said, smiling, and walked darkness6 years ago in Literature Submissions

it started relatively fast
after i had first seen you
that i was reminded of you
every day, meaning in fact each day
one day it would be just your name
popping up like a neon sign in the dark
the next day a smell would waft by
inexplicably conjuring up some memory
then i would catch the sound of some notes
from a song that expressed my feelings so well
and so on, and so on, and so on
along with those memories,
some warmth around the heart,
putting a smile on my face -
that was a phase of surreal romance
of dreams dreams dreams

then, when our smoothly going conversations
became more difficult, subdued and sparse
because of progress6 years ago in Literature Submissions

Release the anchorMy very roots extended manically into the ground, holding me down like an anchor. No matter how much I struggled, they just wouldn’t let me go. I swayed and swayed, I swang in the wind with all of my might, but I feared that the only way I could escape was… death. Death, or luck.

I didn’t know what to do, until another tree sprouted next to me.

If I’d had eyes, they’d have been gleaming. If I’d been a bird, I’d have soared five miles into the sky.

Now I’m old… Rotting.

And I know that I’ll die smiling.Release the anchor6 years ago in Literature Submissions

playgroundPlayground

The eyes are watching from above, and below a snail crawls across the playground.

The little girl grabs the next monkey bar, and a little boy tries to pry her fingers away from the metal. She looks up at him, glaring, and he smiles back mischievously. He pulls her fingers off and she falls down, landing on the soft, yellow sand. She misses the snail by little, her hand within reach of the brown, swirled shell. She yells at the boy that she will tell his mommy, and he jumps off the metal structure, landing on the other side. He runs away, red tennis shoes blowing up the sand. The little girl struggles to get up and beginplayground6 years ago in Literature Submissions

Seamless Seamless

Every day, every hour, every minute
Something, somewhere changes.
Life is like a bus going nowhere and everywhere
People get on and off all the time
But the run never ends

People disappear and manifest beside you
You don’t know where you’re going today
Whether you’ll end up somewhere new
But you packed sandwiches like always – just in case

Nobody knows where you’re going
Nobody laughing or running around or listening to loud music
Just silence.
The bus has stopped.

You stand and walk down the stairs
You pass a tiny pyjama wearing passenger
A friendly smile, an all knowing nod
And you step onSeamless6 years ago in Literature Submissions

When the hope is gone 6 years ago in Photography Submissions

Day At The Strip6 years ago in Photography Submissions

Contest Untitled 76 years ago in Photography Submissions

Child with a sark 6 years ago in Photography Submissions

Death of Lightbulb. He lingered for only a moment, because even after all these years, he still remembered. Her face was unchanged, beautiful in its own way. The folds of black looked harsh against her delicate features.
People were eyeing him, perhaps made uncomfortable by his grief. There was a cough and someone behind him fidgeted. But he wasn’t finished. He couldn’t say goodbye. She couldn’t leave him, not like this.
He leaned down close to her, close enough to kiss. He let the words hang in the air between them, unspoken. Then he reached behind her head, and flicked the switch on.Death of Lightbulb.6 years ago in Literature Submissions

ProgressMy bare feet are clammy against the dank raft
air chilled my pale lips as I breathed in and laughed
I swang side to side readying myself for the run
and off like a bullet I ran towards the sun

I progressed down the deck up to the blue swell
and my nose cringed quickly at the cruel acrid smell
I looked into the water and jumped off the end
My body's so cold, but the chill is my friend

The wind brushed my cheek as I began to fall down
and for the first time, I thought I would drown
but I couldn't go back so in the water I splashed
and into the waves I cowardly crashed

In the frigid cold flood I searched for a breath
If I didn't finProgress6 years ago in Literature Submissions

MirrorFluid reflection
He launches forward
But will it shatter?Mirror6 years ago in Literature Submissions

"Life's like a tree"

Pressing fingers
to age-lines of fallen trees --
I feel growth."Life's like a tree"6 years ago in Literature Submissions

The Secret to SuccessConstantly we set goals for no reason whatsoever. Dream of the day when there is nothing left to accomplish, torn from your roots with nowhere left to grow. Feel the rush when you gasp for breathe and have nothing left to grab onto. What's the point of progression?

Never worry about being forgotten; don't try to leave a mark by improving near-perfection. Live your life for you. Ignore those who ridicule you for having no real aspirations.

Trust me, when you're eighty-seven, on your deathbed, you won't be disappointed that you never accomplished something you didn't set out to do.The Secret to Success6 years ago in Literature Submissions

rememberanceI remember when rain in winter
Meant the arrival of spring
I remember when the only spring time flooding
Was in the garden
I remember when summer showers
Where not destructive
I remember it was in autumn
That the leaves turned red

But there is rain in December
There are entire cities flooded by rain
There are hurricanes destroying the landscape
And we can see the changing leaves in midsummer

We are slowly killing the planet
All in the name of progressrememberance6 years ago in Literature Submissions

Gasworklately, darkly:
new nozzles
on old noses.Gaswork6 years ago in Literature Submissions

Shredded From...by novranthe strand of life ripped
taken from what life was, now
by the soul, one treeShredded From...by novran6 years ago in Literature Submissions

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ProgressRoots seek through the earth -
sparrow's call rides falling leaves -
still making progress.Progress6 years ago in Literature Submissions

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