Jon

HE DANCES A DANCE OF STRENGTH CONTROL, BEAUTY HIS MUSCLES  FLOW GLISTEN WITH SWEAT MY HEART ACHES MY EYES TEAR I WANT HIM TO DANCE FOR ME ALONE I HOPE HALF-SLEEP I LIE NEXT TO ME HE LIES BEHIND MY CLOSED LIDS LIGHT RADIATES WHERE OUR BODIES TOUCH MY HEART ACHES MY EYES TEAR I WANT HIM TO DANCE FOR ME ALONE I HOPE AZURE EYES BROWN EYES PERSIMMON HAIR…

June 1, 1991
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Ramblin’s Part I

It is cold.  So very, very cold.  I almost dare not open my eyes.  Afraid of what I might find there.  Afraid.  I will open my eyes.  I will open them.  Yes.  But…but no.  NO!  There is no light in this place!  To what pit of darkness have I bee deposited?  Please.  Anyone!  Where!  I am alone.  Alone.  Alone in this putrid place!  There is the scent of death here! …

September 9, 1990
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A Ballerina

Red . . . Purple . . . Yellow . . . Pink? Yes.  Pink.  It is. The pinkest of pink.  The pink of the twirling ballerinas with the tight pink tights and the light blue bonnets bouncing merrily as the ballerinas twirl.  Twirl into the distance.  Twirl into the yellow sunset with the purple mountains that crown it sitting just five feet out of permanent reach. Twirl into the…

September 9, 1990
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The Hero of 2050

The morning was dark and gloomy, as usual.  Ever since the nuclear war, the mornings had been dark and gloomy, especially where Raul slept, in the alley between Comics Plus and the offices. Raul wasn’t your average king of guy.  Raul was the kind of guy to take things seriously.  Much too seriously.  The people in Portland called him a hero, he wasn’t.  He had been volunteered for this mission…

September 9, 1990
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The Things One Does For Love

PROLOGUE   It is high noon now, second watch on the tower, but there is still no sign of the sun as clouds continue to suffocate the sky.  As usual, the dark weather has brought rain to these green lands, but that has, for the moment, ceased.  Now only a slight breeze flows over the plain, softly rustling the leaves in the giant oaks which tower over me.  The blades…

September 9, 1990
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Hounds of the Storm

Hounds of the Storm Shadows…and darkness. Political freedoms revoked. The smell of death thickens the air. Bodies…burnt, mutilated, and tortured fill the streets. The lost souls strive, but never succeed. Only the bliss of their hopes keep them going. But what hopes? All dream lie shattered at the base of a mountain called Power. Where only the strong survive, and the weak are crushed under the heels of  Hierarchy. Monitors…

September 9, 1990
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Poems from the Lands of Dreams

Charles bursts into laughter, his face a bright red as I complete the joke about the rhinoceros and the privy.  I lean back into my chair with a feeling of content – Charles still gasping for air – and enjoy the comfort of my surroundings.  Ah the life of the wealthy:  Leather and velvet upholstery, plentiful liqueur, and the ever faithful servants a mere clap away.  Taking out a finely…

September 9, 1990
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