Pages Menu
Categories Menu

Posted by on Nov 23, 2022 in Fiction | 2 comments



Reality is a nasty habit. 
It keeps on getting worse.
Time is an addiction.
A cradle and a hearse.
All things moving forward
from Pandora’s box
to Queen Anne’s purse.
It is like a dream in reverse.
Then I awake and you are there
I feel the sky lift and open a book.
Momentous wandering ended where
The physics isn’t real, in the shadow
Of a fire escape, over a basement stair.
Face in flickers of matchlight. The stare.


  1. Thanks for sharing

  2. Thank you for reading!

Post a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *