Write Drunk Edit Sober

Alcohol, a friend in doses, can be fun in spades… lubricated moments, memories 

Sometimes lost. Writing drunk, per Hemingway’s advice, proves useful in bypassing 

The id. That self editing bastard! The ego and super such are more easily sated. Pleased with self of self.

Traveled ways across the pages of life, transcendent meanings not yet realized.

Drunken lucidity washing tables and chairs alike. Crashing bodies, stumbling faces…

Tripping on feet made wonky.



Missed chance 

Travel back a year, I was on cloud nine. Long time crush….saw her reaching for a glass of red wine

She smiled alive and my insides went sky high. Possibilities, fears, desires… All churning inside.

Bring back to here, life moves and changes. Another, the other, their time was nigh… Burgeoning

Bosom, life inside. Joyous for her, his friend in love and nothing more. Attraction wavers and falls

Wayside ways, off the radar, maturity cures all. Life moves on.


Noble Badass

Heart summons heart, to awaken and realize a pain 

Choked down for survival’s sake, quietly crippling 

Growth when whole. Awesomeness apparent, though shaded with 

Survivalist bravado. Who to blame? No one but habit 

Only. Courage made manifest in being though dampened with

Survival’s habit; over stretching bounds, covering repressed 

Pain and loss, protecting self. Survival is done, life is achieved. 

Time to grow; to meld the old with the new, a nobleness in truth.



Morning sunlight dances a cascading wonder across the surface

Determined vigor propels the craft toward, sweat beading like morning dew.

Weapon of choice stowed aft with bag of tricks, set to slay.

Hours pass, sunlight shining down is making pale skin turn brown.

Crank bait cast, turn the reel, bait wavering in water waiting for feel

Fish bites down, hook sinks in…