Frankenstein Heart

Shattered Photos

Broken bits honed in time

Tarnished and dented heart shaped box

Wrapped in scarred, weathered, leaking human leather

Living in a bramble of learned thorns and tangle of earned rusty barbed wire

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Pack of Two

An excerpt from the book “Pack of Two” by Caroline Knapp ( June 1999) was the homework for discussion a few months ago at the weekly gathering of writer’s that I hangout with.  I didn’t care for it.  It is a story about humans and dogs, so that was a bit of a surprise.  After a few weeks I decided that I should read the book, give it an honest chance and if nothing else figure out why it didn’t appeal to me.  As I began reading it, I started liking it a little better and then later not so much.  At times this book feels like it was a project, get a dog and write about the experiences.  She constantly delves into why people love dogs by quoting many studies and other books, so plenty of research had be done.  Discussion’s with many other dog people and their experiences fill about another third.  Perhaps a book full of trying to understand the bond with people and dogs is too much, maybe it is as simple we trust the love of a dog because we know they won’t drop it and walk away.  Could it be that learning to write Memoir has (finally) made me want to see more scenes and less telling?  Am I too independent to be concerned with the opinions of other’s as to why I love my dog?  Despite not really liking the book – I read it anyway (a first).

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Will this experience make me a better writer – time will tell.

“Hey There”

“Hey there”, she said after our common friend introduced us. I went from sipping a beer and people watching at Doc’s Tavern (minding my normal – alone business) to shaking hands with Christa. A sparkle in her eyes showed me something unexpectedly bright in the otherwise dark familiar place. A couple of rounds and few slow songs later – things changed. The lies that I had told myself about destiny and being alone, walls that time built to lean against and pretend, the words “Not for me” said out loud as if to protect. Dissolved. She stole them all with one kiss.

Phone Ghosts

My phone has traces of acquaintances, pets, friends and family who are no longer living.
No longer living here with us.

Their birthday’s pop-up as if to remind and say “Don’t forget me.”
Photos in the memory mix float around and surface at times, blending in with new experiences.

It is hard enough to say “Goodbye” in this life,
making [Delete] impossible.

So, My Collection Grows…