Author: cfblack
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Goodbye to a friend
morphine drip prescribed soul flashes light in the dark outside I sit train wails goodbye 5-11-22
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Calico mosquito
Cat sits in sun by empty fire pit wearing a grey and white patched coat watching squirrels watch her watch them watching her stare as if in aligned mirrors. The squirrels know she knows she cannot reach them, but she tries again and again and again, because maybe just maybe she might get lucky. April…
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South Carolina earthquake, or, Alexa, play Carole King
The bed shook in the night She took it as a sign He slept right through it Woke rested the next morning Did not wake her And left 5-9-22
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Eggs benedict with chorizo on the side
Chilly Mother’s Day, rock and roll elevator music overhead played bad. Traffic on the street honks off beat. Everyone needs a job, and the musician’s union pays well. Honeysuckle in the planter, sparrows scavenge breadcrumbs at my feet, dog dish begs water by a bench while families gather outside a restaurant waiting for a text…
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once upon a time
He knew she knew that he knew they both knew They were wanting and willing So he left Because he knew He was not capable of love …just yet and he did not want to be Unfaithful to fairytales and myths of love He carried in his head and he did not want to wake…
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Sikorsky’s bird
On the way to Fort Jackson it shakes our house, tells the woodpecker to quiet down appears briefly through the trees, then vanishes until it’s time to fly home to roost. 5-4-22
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Literacy
Seagull reads the wind Maybe adapts is a better word Ruminates in sun above sand Waits for you to drop a crust of bread Snatches it before it hits ground Beach buzzard roosts mid-air Awaits another accident of intent Because it amuses you You throw another piece in its direction And again, it does not…
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Only
If I do not write about hurt, it does not mean I do not hurt. It only means I’m running short on time and need to focus on the positive. If I do not write about social change, it does not mean I am blind. It only means I’m working on myself, refining the cinder…
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H.O.R.S.E.
Who decided to spell H.O.R.S.E. that this was the way to see who was the best shot in the neighborhood? Today, I watched young kids play H.O.R.S.E. and doubt they ever rode a horse at summer camp or enjoyed Roy Rogers on TV Shoot to disarm and never to kill dreamed of crying High Oh…
