Life Among the Never-Winged

Once upon a time I was writing a book called, "Just Another Love Letter", about angels behaving badly. Now I just quietly ask myself each day, "What the hell am I doing?"

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Location: The Rocky Mountain Empire, United States

My friends always knew I was going to hell. My only hope is that God likes good jokes and bad redheads.

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  • Thursday, May 29, 2008

    Late Bloomer


    Saturday, May 24, 2008

    Rest Now

    Rest Now

    I've been planting

    and watering, watering

    as the wind blows the water away

    fast as it falls.

    Just before I go back to study

    the endocrine system, I puzzle over

    what went wrong with me,

    what will go wrong

    with my future patients;

    women like me.

    I watch over seedlings that have

    stretched up through the dirt

    wondering what went wrong

    with the ones that didn't.

    Environmental –

    Too much water? Too little?

    Cellular –

    Something left out of that old code?

    Never to sprout but still

    buzzing on a sub-atomic level;

    a shell of relationships

    waiting to decay.

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    Friday, May 09, 2008

    Every night I haunt a house in Russia

    Every night I haunt a house in Russia. I haunt the ghosts who live there. It's unintentional.

    I didn't know where I was, or that I even was anywhere. To me it was just dream after dream of the same place – the woods, the snow,

    the overhanging balcony like iced gingerbread,

    and inside, the dark, cramped wooden staircase I found myself climbing over and over against my will always awakening before my feet touched the landing. A blessing.

    Years passed in my dreams and in the world where I dreamed.

    Paint peeled.

    Furniture toppled.

    The ghosts got used to me, and eventually took a liking to me. I learned their names but I never remember them. They take no offense.

    I'm like a little doggy who comes to visit now and again. They feed me, so to speak, scratch behind my ears. I guess I must entertain them.

    I still don't like the stairs. Even now that I've seen what's at the top, and that the room isn't going to hurt me. That no ghosts in this place will hurt me.

    'Will' is different from 'can' though. And sometimes things change.

    I finally went up the stairs. All the way up. The paint up here is still bright, because it has stayed so dark. At some point, someone blackened the stained glass windows.

    There are two chairs facing each other across the room.

    Maybe the conversations up here were very nice once, with the light streaming through the windows.

    No one's come up to talk to me yet.

    And even though I'm alone, I can't make myself go back down the stairs.

    There's a table, you see, off to the side. A red one, next to the stairs. On the table is a hook.

    I can't get past that table.

    No one comes to talk to me. Not even the ghosts.

    I've been here a while now. Waiting to wake up.

    Come see me?

    The photos were taken 550km north-east from Moscow in Kostroma region near Chukhloma town.

    Mona's Poetry Friday word is, 'doggy.'

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    Friday, May 02, 2008


    Or schizophrenia. You decide.

    This is what happens when Dancehall is in a dreamstate after staying up all night with a sick child, after writing a research paper on Synaesthesia with alphabetized references, after getting all emo over an 80's song she hasn't heard in forever ('Love Over Gold', thanks for asking), after reading an article Stucco sent her about J.K. Rowling's little lawsuit snit, and after taking up Mona's challenge after reading Clowncar's contribution last week.

    A found dialogue. (hit the letter "I") I steal like a thief, but I'm always a woman.

    After the Commitment

    Woman: “I confess...I don't like Mondays.”

    Man: Rubbing eyes “I don't wanna know. I drove all night.”

    Woman: “I eat cannibals.”

    Man: Pained sigh “I feel for you.”

    Woman: falling from the chair “I get weak.”

    Man: catching her “I got you!”

    Woman: “I just died in your arms tonight.”

    Man: Concerned expression “I know there's something going on.”

    Woman: Devious smile “I know what boys like...”

    Man: Embarrassed blush “I melt with you.”

    Woman: “I remember you! I...I”

    Man: Looking into her eyes “I still haven't found what I'm looking for.”

    Woman: getting agitated “I think I'm a clone now.”

    Man: looking around nervously “I think we're alone now...”

    Woman: snickering and whispering “I touch myself...I wanna be a cowboy.”

    Man: Shouting out the prearranged 'codewords' to the orderlies “I wanna dance with somebody!”

    Woman: Shouting to the orderlies “I want a new drug!”

    Man: Angrily and desperately to the milling orderlies “I want action!”

    Woman: Laughing hysterically “I want candy! I want to break free!”

    Man: Closing eyes to hide the tears and the sight of the orderlies drag his darling away “I want to know what love is.”

    Woman: shouting as she's dragged down the hall “I want you to want me! I want your sex!”

    Man: turning to leave “I won't let the sun go down on me.”

    (Actually, this was a lot of fun.)

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