Tuesday, August 28, 2018


I swore I would be repentant last time, trembling and crying, it was my environment
God didn’t believe me when I said I wouldn’t look at porn anymore either
But I was allowed to grow up just the same, never sure if I was on heavenly probation
You told me to get my shit straight, that God didn’t like an idiot and I took that to heart

So now in times of crisis I look to my heart first to see if it's true and gaze into the everything
Cosmic lineage doesn’t lie, helium, hydrogen, oxygen, neon, our elemental family reunion
At the edge, I would stand perilously close and peek through the universal boudoirs curtains
To spy on the naked truth and hold it close to my chest, sharing with passing stars and comets
If I told you what the truth was you would chuckle condescendingly and offer me a cigarette
I would tell you anyway, because I love you and you should know…we all should know 
I would wrap your shoulders in grandmas afghan so you wouldn’t catch a chill
And go to bed knowing the seeds were planted, your dreams and the universe would do the rest

Tuesday, July 31, 2018


     She stared out her classroom window and watched a plastic bag blowing across the well-manicured lawn, wondering if she let go, if her soul would become light enough to just blow around the world.  She imagined floating high in the sky, staring in the windows of high rise apartments, seeing life at its most intimate, the occupants sharing food, angry thoughts and awkward love making. Watching to see if a woman brushing her teeth in the morning would do it before bed time as well, as she is sure she tells her dentist she does.

     She imagines flying low to the ground through construction sites, where sweaty men work toward a retirement full of arthritic backs, skin cancer and drinking problems born of a self professed responsibility to feed their families and their own vices, sometimes more the latter than the former. She wondered how many memories should could fit inside herself before the weight of the world would be so heavy that flying became an impossibility.

    She thought that night time would bring cool winds and the glow of lights in which she could see the writers, the artists and the musicians practicing to become more than the sum of their dreams.  She loves the pajamas, the late-night raids of the ice cream and the one man  that would surely be surfing the high definition images of his favorite creamy white thighs and dreaming of a tryst filled with danger and delicious delight.

     She didn’t want to understand the universe, she wanted to be the universe and know all of things that were true and unknowable. She wanted to be filled with the warmth of understanding, the elevation of compassion and the crisp sweet tang of electricity. She longed to hold the human race in her bosom and cradle the fears and triumphs, washing over their lives with a wave of security and a notion that they were useful, beautiful and loved.

     She turned her attention back to the front of the classroom and listened to the teacher do his best to impart the wisdom of the world he knew and she knew it would not be enough.  When the bell rang she gathered her books, walked to the front of the class and set them on the teachers desk.

      "Where are you going,” the teacher asked.

     “Somewhere that rings true and calms my mind and spirit."

     “Will you be back?”

     “Look for me outside your window, I will be there watching over you.”

     “Can I come?”

    “When you understand who you are, you will find a light at the bottom of your dream.  You will find me there."

Thursday, July 12, 2018


Toril Fisher

For Margarets prompt at the Imaginary Garden With Real Toads
     Just last year the lake swallowed Mary Givney’s son whole. That damnable oil slick surface not giving up a single ripple as he slipped silently from sight. Two feet from shore and two feet from a boat, five people gawked on, not one moving an inch to try and save the boy.

     “It was his lot,” they said.

     “Who am I to interfere with God’s will,” they said.

    “The fates are not to be trifled with,” they said.

     When that boy came back to life in the fall, walking straight out of that water like the second coming, you should have seen the faces of the towns folk. As they watched him shamble through the main street, skin purple with the cold and eyes red rimmed and milky, he touched each one in the middle of the forehead.  In a voice choked with water and decaying vegetation he repeated the same word over and over.

     “Wish. Wish. Wish.”

     He headed for his mother’s house and the people followed, keeping a distance, not wanting him to touch them again, but amazed at the walking dead and scared of what he might do. 

As he approached the house his mother came out and embraced him, tears in her eyes.

    “Wish. Wish. Wish.”  He repeated and then collapsed in a gelatinous heap, dead once again at her feet.

     She stared out at the people and shook her head at them in disgust.

    “What kind of evil are you casting on us woman,” one of them shouted.

    “What is this Wish he spoke of,” another asked.

    “We should burn him so that he stays dead,” one man spat.

She stared at them, not in horror or anger, but in pity and frustration.

    “You created him,” she said.

    “He only wanted to fit in,” she said.

    “You have killed he only thing I have ever loved,” she said.

     That is when the fist stone hit her in the leg. That was when the boy became a King.  That was when the die was cast.

Tuesday, July 10, 2018


The empathy she showed was not born into her
Rather it was born of her, her lot, her place
Reaching for the same silver coins we all do
But reduced to tears by adolescent gossip
And the curse of being different

"Why do they tease me mother?"
She was natures art project
"Your destiny is so much greater child."
She was the mouth piece of the universe

She grew evenly, like rising, rich, brown bread, soul, mind, light
And time handed her gifts as necessary, depth, love, understanding
On a hill outside of Vinton, Iowa she breathed her first revelation
If you could have seen her that day when her potential was unleashed
You would have seen her for what she was....captivating.

© 2018 Crowley