Sunday Whirl – Modern Problems

The stick sings as it slashes through the air. The promising cut flies passing the machine that strands all that data in digital netherland. I stare yearning for light in the darkness. My mind’s journey talks to me pitching ways to get even with technology.

Sunday Whirl – Channeling

Voices become unhinged, bruising my listening ears. Vision fails to match what aches could push nerves to their edges. Nails on chalkboard could never blossom in such a manner. I wish I could remember numb or savor the quiet again.

Sadly the remote is lost

Sunday Whirl – Sudden End

The sliver of chain shines. Her face wears disdain by design, while the rest of her dresses to the nines. Secretly, some feign shock but jealousy trains some for the crime afoot.

“My god.. ..she’s not breathing!” Someone tells. The reception grinds to a halt.

Sunday Whirl – Way to the Top

Low and tight, I grab at tree roots. My simple gravel path trimmed to a knife’s edge. My eyes caught a climb away from vertigo inspiring view. A stomach in knots, joins other spreading pains like gingham pattern.

I grab a branch to rise, only to receive a pine scented water spray when it slips slowly away.

Sunday Whirl – Sudden Trip

My hand skims the turbulent surface of Lake August. The electric motor whines as the minutes slide from the clock. My heart races. My cargo needs hiding. Daylight doesn’t creeps in to my view, revealing a tiny shed in a rugged lawn.

Who knew too much lust and a pillow could end this way.

Knightly Treats

I pass the old black tower alone. The late Sun rays tell my presences. My shot at passing without being called upon seems to fade. I fiddle eighth my hands. Thoughts of becoming a treat for the legendary dragon named Honey harms my spirits.

Sunday Whirl – Generations

“The spirit listens. What you breathe and what writing you place upon the sacred Earth matters.” Black Bear looks away as he talks following a cloud with his eyes. “Prosper is not an act. It dulls senses. Slowly, it digs through your years leaving holes.”

“So do I put this piece of malachite on Ebay or not?” Jessica looks at her Grandfather. Her vision of a few dollars rapidly disappears.

Sunday Whirl – Modern Problems

Questions slam my cycle of thinking. Logic lost in blast, racing away down some back channel. I’m left to crawl, acting like a bad suspect playing chances against a ruthless detective.

I click the stupid link again.

The wheel spins. Network error. Again.

Sunday Whirl – Self Image

I’m hiding in a close black corner called home. I belong here were I was put. I skip the laugh to be invisible.

And you call me a cardboard cutout.

Sunday Whirl – Not the Right Surprise

“Wait!” An animated voice like part of a loud laugh.

I check the Eagle’s Crawl bar for whom the drunk queen checking me out could be.

My heart thinks I have won some attention. But I realize this has become a family place. And there she is a barmaid waving me down.