Black Cloud

Maggie, my little shadow, follows me everywhere. She makes my business her business–when mowing the lawn, cooking out on the grill, or when going to the backyard.

She’s going in tomorrow for a more complete analysis of her digestive issues. Restricted diet and activities, didn’t seem to have caused any negative effects. I’ve missed taking her for walks in the morning.

I don’t know what the prognosis will be. Hoping for the best. She seems so normal. Another day, will tell the story.  Not knowing has been the black cloud, that I wish would go away.

What You Needed To Know (Stream of Consciousness)

Curtain rose, then fell

Magazine covers

Wrinkled, torn

Inside passages

“I’m Joe’s Liver”

“Why can’t Johnny read?”

Asked, then answered

For those that believed

Cautioned, stern warnings

Kudzu clan was on the loose

Worst earthquakes

Were yet to come

Best to plan ahead

Dream queens, dream screams

Worst mistakes, “they” ever made

Why we dreamed–what dreams meant

Baby bumps, career bump-ups

Deflated balloons departed

Decorated trees in festive mylar

Get well, good luck!

Don’t give up–too soon!

Uncanny caring

Unconscious staring

Big sales, slips and flops

Ubiquitous, unorthodox shops

Favorable phases of the moon

Back to basics, think smaller

How to look taller

Luck, lack of luck?

Hidden gold mines

Could work this time?

You didn’t know

How lucky you were





When I caught the writing bug, I was like a kid in a candy store–cranking out poetry, short stories, parodies.  I was going off in more directions than a fireworks display.  Reality set in.  How much should I reveal about myself?  My carefully crafted image was that of a carefree, handsome, loveable, bumbler.

At the time I sported shaggy, longer hair and a beard.  Of course now my hair is gray and the beard is history.  My fantasy life has always been more active than my real one.  A sense of humor helped hide my insecurities.  Ironically, it seemed the more I revealed about myself, the more interesting my writings were.

Writing something for others to read was intimidating.  Was I giving away too much of myself?  The challenge–create something with an original twist.  …Compelling, not brash, informative, and devoid of  dullness.  …With just a pinch of levity added.  Would this end up orphaned in my dusty attic–like so many other projects?   After topic selection, feelings of aloneness crept in.  …Alone in the big city of ideas.  …The foreign country of other writers.  Did I belong here?  Did I speak the language?  Ideas came together in a big cluttered heap.  Sorting for relevancy began in earnest.  Only when things started to come together did I get excited.  Then I was lost in my obsessive-compulsive world.


Visible, yet invisible, birthed and orphaned, adrift on seas of mediocrity–

Individuality sacrificed on altars of ignorance–

Irregular puzzle pieces, yesterdays fish wrap–

Platitudes echo, from canyon walls–

Like mental masturbation, wasted on the fallen–

–Myriad colors, reflected in rainbow, enchant my solitude–

–Illuminated and infinitesimal paths–

–Continuously divide, beyond the facade–


Where was this going?  Ideas melded together, I continued to sort and re-sort.  Even in the midst of other activities, the process continued.  Ideas popped into my head.  They were written down immediately.  With everything written in rough form.  I looked for glitches: clumsy wordings, run-on sentences, redundancies, excessive clichés.  Freedom of expression was and is my overriding principle.  I gave a little more of myself.  Would it leave readers wanting more?  Time would tell.

This loveable bumbler will continue attempting to creatively, create order from chaos.  At the same time giving glimpses behind the curtain.  It’s not going to be easy.  I may stumble along the way.  When that happens, I’ll shake off the road dust and try again.  My journey beyond the facade goes forth on stormy seas.