This Is The Way It Works

When I ride the bus

or I am out walking my dog

when I’m on the train

and going no where

in particular at all

I like to watch people

I like to take their faces into my head

inch by inch

in small

and delicate



I can take my time

because they are on their phones

trapped in a screen

unable to look up and away

I can steal their expressions, collect their hands, shoulders, their eyes

put them in my memory to be devoured

at a later time


a story or a poem .

When I am out

loose and invisible in a sleeping world

I feel like a gargoyle

on a wall.




Here I am.


Shall we begin….


Once upon a time.

Oh. No.

Photo by Pixabay on


but not for the first time


it happens more often then you would think

someone committed suicide

in the cemetery where I worked.


I think that when that happens

it is so  loud

it wakes the dead


and when the dead open their eyes and  realize what has happened

I think

it makes them sad.


So Much For That

Photo A.M. Moscoso



We need balance

in what we eat

what we wear

what we read

and how we conduct ourselves

in a Universe that demands

for our survival.



Why is it then

that the ground under my feet

and the thoughts in my head

careen from one place to another

and never make sense.







Why do you hate me so, avoid me at every turn, never answer my call

will we ever be friends?

Will I ever know you



RDP Tuesday: balance

My Endearing Bones

A lover’s quarrel is happening under my skin

my bones are fighting with each other again.

They grind and grate they get on each other’s nerves

they yell obscenities  at my muscles when they ask, ” Hey dudes seriously,  what’s up?”


“You aren’t working  with us, you aren’t working for her

all you do is snap, crackle and pop like a bowl of kid’s cereal.”


My bones won’t justify that with a reply

they’re caught in their own world

they don’t care what anyone says.


They’ll stay together forever

they don’t really know why

even though

it’s a grind, it ‘s a pain

being locked together

like this

under my skin.



RDP Tuesday: crepitus

Here Are My Tygres

Photo by Pixabay on



ruins of buildings, lives and the faces of people I knew

or thought I knew

visit me when I sleep.


These phantoms  drive the nightmares

that visit me, that haunt me, that call  the endless twilight in my head home

Dead images, abandoned words, forgotten promises and curses  brought to life again now live in the daylight

in each word I carve on stone, in paper on bone.


Daily Addictions Prompt: Motor



Her dreams of Olympus

of dwelling among the Gods and Goddesses

ended on a road

where she watches the world race by

from her window

and the indifferent world sounds like a pride of  lions hungrily, passionately

taking down it’s prey.


She keeps her dreams of Olympus


inked in a books with a shaky hand


she leaves beside


many half drunk  glasses of  wine and pictures  of a life

greedily, licentiously,  devoured


a once corpulent

now starving