Tag Archives: #stories

From Ancient Lands

From the ancient lands of Mesopotamia,
A story of friendship and love,
Of a king and a wild man, united,
In adventures that took them above.

Gilgamesh, the mighty king of Uruk,
A man of strength and fame,
But with a fear of death that haunted,
And a longing to escape that claim.

Enkidu, the wild and free spirit,
Born of the earth and wild,
A being of raw, untamed power,
Who was destined to be exiled.

But fate had other plans in store,
As Gilgamesh and Enkidu met,
And a friendship was born that day,
That nothing could ever forget.

Together they battled fierce monsters,
And faced the perils of the unknown,
Their bond growing stronger with each step,
Their love like a seed that was sown.

Yet even in victory, Gilgamesh,
Could not escape the fear in his heart,
The fear of death that loomed above,
And threatened to tear him apart.

So he set out on a quest for answers,
To find the key to eternal life,
But in his journey, he learned a truth,
That cut through the pain like a knife.

For he realized that life is a gift,
A precious and fleeting thing,
And that true happiness lies in love,
And the joy that it can bring.

And so, with Enkidu by his side,
Gilgamesh returned to his land,
A wiser and humbler man,
With a heart that had been re-manned.

The Epic of Gilgamesh, a tale of love,
Of friendship that will never die,
A reminder that in this journey of life,
It’s the love we share that will help us to fly.

:: 03.11.2023 ::


THE SHOCK OF IT

THE SHOCK of it.

A mother telling her son: “My son, I won’t let you go to California.”

A young man carries her baby all day long in slings telling him to grow.

Music is ringing into an empty silent room
: a woman lost to grief; and a boy unable to place her
and then her voice and him singing a hard melody, so darkly ironic.

A little singing voice sounds in the distance about a fist coming down hard
on her right breast which hurts beyond words —

: a shadow on the porch

a young woman
a single mother —
chasing blackbirds;
a ghost.

Damp gravel slush raining down on a wood tree, big as a house
covered with silk flowers.

A light touches its branches, fades:

“Ring-a-ling!
Ring-a-ling!”

Mama cries: “Can you make a fairy home out of this?”

“Yep,” I say —

“that’s what I do all day.”

burned bird: the bird must go

(She alone will turn my face to this flame)
bunch of very small black bodies: flocking, in a shadow
of magic, so small, they see their souls away across the ocean
within bird-wings is a full moon.

gone.

HUNTING BOY at the butcher

pink of his heels: she hands him

the armful of feathers

of a dead hawk’s nest,

“now,” she says,

“a nice plumy body and yellow bill.”

// :: 02.09.2022 :: \\


I ASKED THE VAST UNKNOWN

i asked the vast unknown if it knew
me___a taste of dirt i spat; an unraveling became
of me as though falling into and through a rabbit’s hole.
but One outside of space &
time — where nothing Human
is said, worn or told: again unraveling into a deeper sense
of nonsense whom once i was be-
came nothing More.

Is what this is more:

More, so much more!

:: 05.13.2020 ::