Short #2: Vandals


In the gray crease before the night,
the man and I tossed milkweed seeds into the wind.
We sent silent wishes,
for patches of earth, space to grow.
That we may one day see them tall and green.
To know our hands had been a part of their travels.
The child watched us,
watched the seeds pinwheel on the breeze.
Like perfection.

Short #1: The Edge of the Sea

Low Tide

So much life here, at the edge of the sea.
I despise each footfall; the crunch of tiny things.
Each footfall, destruction.
And the wild sky shifts above.
Ever moving, floating white and blue.
And the slipping sea feeds the life clinging to its edge.
Tiny life, tinier than me.
Meeting death beneath my boots.
And yet I, too, am just a speck.
Lost, beneath the footfalls of a thousand ghosts.