SIGN UP FOR FREE GUIDED MEDITATIONS
The sleeping passenger feels cold—shivers to wake, at dawn—discovering light coming in through the window—cool light at dawn. Another sleeping passenger feels cold—jerks to wake at the same time, at dawn—discovering light coming in through the window—cool light at dawn.
Both passengers are awake now, and realize they are looking at each other sitting across from one another at dawn.
Two passengers wake up and realize they are looking at each other, sitting across from one another at dawn—February eighth, the day before a giant storm two passengers find themselves awake on a train, in the wee hours of the morning.
The passenger turns his head to the side facing the window, and discovering light coming in through the window, yawns. The other passenger turns his head to the side facing the window, and discovering light coming in through the window, hears the other passenger yawn. The passenger turns back to face forward. The other passenger turns back to face forward.
Both passengers are awake now, and realize they are looking at each other, sitting across from one another anxious to start a conversation, at dawn—as light is coming in through the window—cool light at dawn.
Originally Published by Burningword Literary Journal 2013 http://burningword.com/2013/04/morning-train/
His little person voice—I hear it and wonder how to respond to such Beauty & Light—pure Love Nephew with flippers and blue trunks, little gashes or wounds here there, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he used the word cicatrize with his little belly. I’m sticking out childlike in the saltwater pool. I attempt to swim laps in the overcast cool— thinking again of what imagination I have left. We play to save all the insects floating on top. No Bees just Dragon fly Fire fly Horse fly Mosquito & Flea— He wants to save them all too and so the game begins as Super Heroes—told me his name was to be Red Surfer and mine would be Lisa—I wanted to say, “No, I’m Nisa because that’s what they call me in Mexico” like Niça, like water, but I didn’t— I went along with it put on my goggles and looked at his little frog appearance under water surrounded by concrete— The image of him under water, the way his face and arms and legs and eyes looked at me through buggley goggles submarine portholes to his soul baby Innocent surviving under water exciting but scary at the same time just learning how to hold his breath nicely— We both came up for air, I said, “A jellyfish needs saving too.” He said, “He or She?” I said, “What? “— “He or She?” “O, He.” It’s a male jellyfish, I didn’t understand the question at first. So me and Kai—his name also water—saved a jellyfish from drowning, believing it could breathe on dry land just like all the other animals in the world we want to meet.
Do Something About the Children Slain
Dusty blood flows in the road, red rivers pool in graphics, casting crimson shadows on cement walls: “Twenty-Four Dead Just South of El Paso”
The super-market execution taped off yellow. Her downcast eyes in remorse, not strong— Just a necessity. Living in cardboard houses behind wooden pallet fences, unsolved murders of their sisters and husbands, waiting for the maquiladora to boom again.
She cannot cross the desert with her babies. The able kids are throwing gang signs in the alleys littered in crime scenes,
No honest money, only assimilation to the cartels, leaving her in warfare—
Prostitution. Normalcy. Borders push men back for slaughter, time in mourning: To struggle, to pray, to stay for the factory line up.
Federal planes flew overhead during the last soccer game.
Originally published in San Diego Writers Ink Anthology in 2011
The Hermit: Understanding the Major Arcana of the Tarot
This article discusses the many meanings of the tarot card the hermit.
We drink water
from the tap—
as if we’re not at war,
The Gulf Coast
Soldiers negotiate realms
begging for somewhere
hollering at uniforms
at what’s been done,
One in ten employed
and John Boehner’s lungs
burn as he remains
Wall Street soared