Tags » Utterances

Christmas morning

It was always a matter of patience. In all things that were to be done with care, all things that I was to grow to love. 710 more words


Two styles of conversation:

One. Two people add their thoughts, one on top of another, building up, up, up—and perhaps away from each other, into their own worlds.

Two. Two people engage each other, and probe with questions deep beyond the borders of the usual chit-chat, in order to challenge and be known to one another in a new way. 30 more words


On the border

The strangest thing – the further I leave my home, the closer I arrive to it.

I try to write myself back into the place where I was born and raised, and my heart swells. 419 more words


Part 2: How to Make an Alexa Skill

This post is the second in my Alexa series. You can find my first post here Part 1: Introduction to Amazon Alexa.  This is a blog post format of my original presentation on… 904 more words


A fat man dreams

When a fat man dreams
of love
he’s thin
not merely slimmed down
from scratch
using different plans
standardized parts
and fabrics that fit off the rack… 60 more words



“Then I dream – and I forget…
And then I see
the shadow of my profile on the wall”
– Cyrano De Bergerac

Could I write a line so thin… 66 more words


Oleander Greed

The catalpa pods dangle, hesitant paper laces in the hushed secrets of the Autumn winds … above and in sentry over the first blush cascades of promising rose hips, nourishment the summer fauns will savor come winter’s killing frost … slightness of the morning turning her palms in offering first testament … there uplifts a billowed lantern dance in unconcealed oneness urging the wood ducks to favor the openness of the lake’s center … thus, they ride on crystal carronades of split prism prayer parades … carnival red, gold, and green gleam … Soul drifts upon this thirst of suggestion, pagoda patter beneath cool bare feet, stone and moss married amongst calliopes with tender mints supplanted … silver bells kiss consternation pouring forth amicable intentions of reaching ignorance’s temple where rest no knowledge of ever knowing touch … the taste of mead and marigolds drunk with a dark silence met … I am your vital leech field, swamp to suckle mud fed seeds, thus, his milky and honey oleander greed.

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