Fishing for Light

If I were to  as Pablo Neruda wrote, sit on the rim of my own well of darkness, fishing for light, I might see monarch butterflies emerging  from a winged skull on a 1700’s gravestone, or the girth of a 200-year-old European beech tree snaking its way up the well to greet me, or maybe…

Next Passage

Because maybe it’s biology  that makes me think  that you and me  could really be  something but so the tale goes  the one who’s supposed to save the damsel  and reap her love  really just threw a metal hook  to her windowsill  provided an escape  from the only world she knew  but left  before she…