Wednesday, February 10, 2010


Midnight in the kitchen.

The 99 cent bubbles
cascaded one
right after another down the drain,
each one another hopeful contestent for the Miss America Pageant...
savoring her moment of fame,
bottom lip quivering,
then disappearing forever...

Tiny little Hungry Man Dinner carrots
but pretending for a moment to be orange buoys in a silver sea.

I turned the water on harder.
Hot and Cold.
Everything at once.

I splayed my fingertips under the spigot, water splattering, spraying, splashing everywhere.

I cried.

And then I saw them.

The butterfly wings.....


kj said...

you are toooooo much!

another gem.

this time i saw the title and said oh oh. i should have known. hope floats in that bubble magice heart of yours.

how are you? i think of you regularly and it's nice to visit a new post.

look what i've learned how to do:


Anonymous said...

Persichetti says...

Thanks my friend...good to see you and good to read you again! Those wings are as clear as day...sounds like it was something you needed to see:) Lots of love being sent your way!

Spadoman said...

That drain is round, like the unbroken circle you taught me about.


Shimmerrings said...

Hugs to you my friend... hugs... and lotsa love to go with them thar hugs...

Sandy Kessler said...

good one --

Maithri said...

I see them...

I see you...

Beloved friend,


she said...

you are fifty parts poet, fifty parts artist, 100% wonderful to read!

love and admiration! ~s.

eric1313 said...

Wish I had wings, but I would have none of the grace to use them right.

I'll leave the flying
to you...

Blue lady;

the only mermaid
to be born on the wing

singleton said...

OMG! Is this where I fell off the earth at? I'm sure I've been here before...
answered every line written...

I must have been having a poignantly beautiful
out of body experience...

In a world,
where you all heard
me when
I was silence,
saw me when
I was hiding,
and knew
I'd be back again.

Much Peace to all.

eric1313 said...

you know it.

much missin' my writer friend.

The campfires on the patio and porch still burn like the morning star after a night in the wildlands.

The very meaning of cherished memory.