A Time Sensitive Request

Small hands are washing the dishes. Clouds float over frozen puddles along Central Ave. There is no time. A small speaker rattles some pop radio station.
Neil is on the phone as the last customers leave the diner. The sun is going behind the building as the street lights fill the sidewalk with a sick amber light.
Snow is on the way and Neil knows he is running out of time.
For now the weather forecast threatens a night of snow that would make all the streets impassable. Neil watches the first flakes of snow float across the stores window as he hangs up the receiver. He sits and takes the last sip from his cup. Time is running out. People are meandering outside as if the signals were getting scrambled from the hive. Some people file into the next door store for milk and needed rations to wait out the storm others just walk by the window watching the beginning of the snow. Neil makes a note on his napkin.
Remind me dear what I might need tonight- my head is empty like my heart-there is only so many breaths I can take-there just isn't enough time to tell you everything so let me just say- I won't forget the milk.

Catering Truck Lost Off Coast

Magic plates of hash browns. Soft serve. Lemon julius.
Four hours of the ocean washing over water logged bodies.

The wheels on the truck go round and round.

Tea Cups of Sand

He ran until his lungs were moments from bursting. Through alleys up past Lincoln Ave to the top of Signal Hill. Up the water tower ladder c to the
edge of the steel container.
From the tower he couldn't see the sky or the ground. His memory was fading and a warmth washed over his face. Trees and barren seas of sand flashed before him as he closed his eyes. Then a silence for what seemed like lifetimes took hold and he began to fall.

2'x3'

For years he would go to the corner of Marina and Venice blvd with his 2'x3' sheet of plywood and nails to make things. Most days he would just hammer nails into his plywood. Some days he would bring a big roll of twine in addition to his nails and plywood. On these days he would tie the twine to each nail and pull it tight until it could reach a parking meter post, bike rack stand or a parked handle of a car. One day I went over to him as he was hammering a nail and asked what he was doing. He looked up and said, "I am hammering a nail." I then asked if he had twine that day. He looked up again with a little smile and said,"sorry no, today is tape day."

Micheal sat on the edge of his bed and waited for the future. He found he spent a great deal of time in the present waiting for a future moment to come into being.
Micheal was the creator of these moments, his gathering thoughts would solidify into realities.
This was part of the miracle.
He wondered briefly which path this future would take, how the pieces of each event would click into place completing the reality. Over this he had no control.
Micheal felt the time shift and knew the process had begun. He hoped it wouldn't hurt.

Tinker Town

Rooftops clouds and flashes of lightning fill the minds of children. The pools have been drained the chalk has been washed away. A dog is barking the neighbor is pouring gasoline over his couch. The blood is washed from the cutting board. In another time none of this is of any consequence, but for tonight in this small town it is everything.

Balloons

Balloons are tied to the branches of the oak out back. Wind chimes send a reminder that the air is flowing over the plains. Dirt is a deep brown, almost a black. The diner in town opens at 4am to feed the truckers and farmers. Justin is watching the balloons sway in the breeze as the early light begins to fill the sky. The party has ended all that remain is the balloons. Tara waits in the car letting the engine idle as Justin takes a last swig from his bottle. Tara yells from the car " hey anytime, pancakes are on!" Justin gives a little smile at the waving balloons and says under his breath, " so that's what a year feels like. "

The Empty House

I made drawings. I guess it was something to do while the pain weighed on me. The drawings filled the time. Mostly I drew small scenes of farm houses or views of the Pacific. This would calm me. I would use only a number two pencil. Never an eraser. I hated the crumbly pink stuff left behind. I started in 1979 on May 3. I remember I wasn't doing anything of particular importance on that day. I sat down on the dining room floor and started with a single blade of grass in the lowest corner, just below the wall outlet. It took a year to cover the first room. Every square inch was filled with a flowing tapestry of scenes from my memory. The more I drew the lighter I felt. Every spare moment I spent drawing on ever surface of the house, until after ten years every last inch was filled. On that day I remember stepping away from the wall into the middle of the living room.

With nowhere left to draw I sat and waited for the house to grow dark.

My Brain Three

My brain filters water. My brain is a river that leads to the gulf. My brain is toast. My brain hovers over paved roads. My brain breaths dust and mold. My brain speaks. My brain follows clouds over the desert. My brain sits on the bottom of pools. My brain lost it's location. My brain is blue and green. . My brain is wrapped in wires. My brain invites families to dinner. My brain is drawing blue prints. My brain suffers from neglect. My brain is quiet. My brain makes lists and outlines chairs with indian ink. My brain wakes to start over.

It started on the Corner

Answer the question. No one saw where the cars collided. No one knows who was driving, all we need to know is what time did you enter the corner store.
The note pad is empty. The camera is off. A small grey line of smoke rises from the ashtray. The room has two figures in the corners. My interrogator is by the table and mic.
Just answer the question. Forget the sirens or the three bodies wrapped and carried away.
They wait as I search my memory. They watch my reactions. Then they ask me about Mae. The figure by the table drops a picture of Mae outside the store. I react and know only now what they already know and what they are trying to discover. The tape recorder is switched on.
Just answer the question.

Lost in Fields

The air was stale from hours of driving with the windows up. On the horizon the farm house floated into view. The sun was dying behind the chimney and the clouds circled the roof.
It was anger that spilled over the kitchen table. Years of half truths and raised fists. Corn fields provided no sense of direction or comfort. Time was collecting what it was owed and the fear set camp in each of our brains.
Sodium vapor lamps popped on as a uneasy silence strangled the kitchen.

Tonight all of this was going to end.

Only you know

White hills. Orange cones. Blue skies. Yellow teeth. Green jackets.
Remind me of the questions that were asked. My head hurts and I am having trouble concentrating. This room is cold and your coffee isn't helping. No. I could't see I was on the ground. I heard voices but couldn't make out what was being said. No. I told you I don't know...
Red ships. Black tea. White walls.
The recorder wheels slowly turn around repeating a voice reciting colors and things in a sustained loop.
I need to sleep you must let me sleep.

Novel

Black clouds from burning tires filled the sky. Planks, tape and wires held up the shed that Jim had made during better days. He remember what she said before she turned and walked toward the train. She was yelling and throwing papers up In the air. The yard was littered with the last breaths of her book. Jim was burning the remains. She had always been perfect. She always knew what and when to say something. Until, that day she had always had the final word.

Homecoming

Children float through alleys and backyards. The tigers are waiting for a free meal. The attic is filled with tea sets. I have trouble breathing the basements air. They say the wind is picking up and the shelter is being used for firewood. Animals talk with the kids. Over the loud speaker they are playing american top forty. My head is beginning to get cloudy. Kids wear black to glide undetected. Pom poms and pills create pretty color assortments. I am beginning to loose my bearings. Bonfires, were never a good idea.

Murray & Mary

Spirits mix with matches to burn down the shed. Murray owned the hardware store and Mary ran the salon. Murray and Mary lived a simple life but as plain as a puddle or as deep as a lake this relationship from the outside seemed for all reasonable observations normal. So, when the fire started the people of the town never suspected what Murray and Mary had been doing late night on their farm.

What I choose to Forget.

The clouds reflect in the sea. The steamship is rolling from the island toward the sun. Three figures are lined up across the stern. There is an orange rope around their necks trailing off into the water. Something is pulling the rope. The three fall down, off and below the surface.

Trees grow from the oceans floor. The three mix with vegetation and are lost and forgotten.

Suggestions

The sun is beginning to break through heavy storm clouds. PCH is glistening from earlier heavy rains. Past the highway we see a rough ocean, a new morning on the west coast.

Confession

The house has never been insulated.
Your neighbor doesn't know your name.
Yesterday the people running the town decided to move your house over night, twenty miles out of town.
Your mother never wanted you and the bedrooms mural painting you looked up at every was intended for another kid.
Your dreams are simply dreams that are as attainable as the thing you forgot yesterday or denied today.

My Brain Two

My brain is wired. My brain hunts north of pelham. My brain washes tables. My brain is a lemon. My brain is oak planks. My brain is surrounded by flowers. My brain is suspended on sticks. My brain wishes. My brain is taped to shag carpet. My brain has transistors and spray paint. My brain is wrapped in flags. My brain burns blue. My brain misses it's childhood. My brain floats over placid fields of green.

Winter

The fence is made of small hands. Fingers wrap around each other like thorns to the edge of the cliff, to the side of a cloud. The nails dig in and tear at the roots of trees. They gnaw at the sides of the cliff as they perch high above the pacific.
Inside, the family hides from what is outside the hands. Worn cedar planks fight off the wind and rain. The family is afraid of anything and everything. As the sun sets the family take time
to sit at the kitchen table. The father extends his hands to his wife and little one creating a circle around the table. The wind is calming down and the ocean rests. Today what is not understood is in another far off land.

Painful

Brick by brick, the roof didn't fit. The hole is the sky. Black seeds lined in perfect rows. The people stood in kiddie pools waiting for the lightning. Backyards are overgrown. Dogs fight over yogurt containers. Nails are pounded through skin. Blood is on the pins. Nine clouds lost their way.

The Five

The concrete is painted a safety orange. Farm fields surround the building. The light is growing faint. It has become difficult to breath. The front door is open so I walk in past the body propped against the wall. Five figures are lined up in front of what looks to be a counter. Behind the counter there seems to be a grill. There is another figure moving around by the grill seemingly cooking. The five figures in front of the counter are motionless. There is a terrible quiet except for the sound of something sizzling on the grill. I tried to pinch my side to determine what was real. Napkins. Coffee. Cigarette. The five just looked at me. I looked back. The five looked familiar but unrecognizable. The light outside grew fainter until the five were engulfed into a black. Silent.
Then from the back of the room sounded, "orders up. "

Regret

Blue to a soft green the sky meets the sea. The boys and girls huddle around a fire.
Small concerns become anxiety riddled obsessions.
A sip becomes a gulp. A touch a taste. A drop the sea.
I missed a chance to change the course of a conversation. Her mind. The tide.

Last Day.

The windows are open. The blue ladder is resting against the gutters. The storm is past due. The party is winding down only a few guests are left. Jim is on the roof shooting his gun again. I am trying to listen to Mary tell her same story about her daughter but keep hearing gun shots from the roof.
First the thunder then the lightning fill the sky, yard and kitchen. The thunder grows louder. I can no longer hear the gunfire. I can only hope Jim finally has finished the job.

Recollect

Recollect

The frost is finding it's way through the basement into the kitchen. Fog is decending over the mountains and winding it's way onto the porch.
I hate the rain.
She sat across from me staring at the far off mound of earth. She said it again but this time more measured like she was trying to relish the
sound of her voice. I hate the rain once more rolled out of her mouth dispersing the steam into the atmoshpere. She set down her cup and looked off at the distance.
I knew whatever we had was over. I picked up my cup and either placed it in the dishwasher or walked to my car but I honestly can't remember.

Eye Split

Shadow streets. Shadow meat. Shadow tea. Rubber bead. Tainted pool. Melting spool. Lemon sip. Shadowed lip. Melted clam. Frozen spam. Lick and die. Painted home. Good day to good night. The book is lost for tonight. Minty spit. Scratched disc.
Eye split.

Benjamin and Jeremy

The farm is where they met to plan. They couldn't plan at the office it was far too congested with people, random energies and noise.
The farm was secluded near, both the brothers and the only county within the state without a cell tower. Benjamin insisted on this as he was convinced people were watching. Jeremy respected and was slightly frightened by his brothers paranoia so he never questioned his demands.
It was on this day that the brothers after years of planning finally had a plan worth putting in motion. This day they found a simple and elegant way to change everything.
Benjamin stood up over the small briefcase and smiled at Jeremy.
The dust gently swirled around him as the sun began to set behind his head.
"they will only understand after it's too late," Benjamin said to his brother. Jeremy smiled back and confirmed the plan was in motion.

Dew fight Snow

The Silver Lake Murderers

Near the reservoir two miles from downtown there was a three story house over looking The Sunset Strip. In early October a pest control service placed a tent over the home preparing it for fumigation. Neighbors were reported as never seeing anyone enter or leave the home. The tent stayed in place until Christmas eve as far as can be determined by reports. Christmas morning a local resident was walking his dog and noticed the tent had been removed. The man was reported as saying the house looked unchanged except he notice a peculiar smell coming from the house.

This is where the story begins.