The Little Boat

Dedicated to my mother Jackie Mary Johnson-McCloskey
By Mary S McCloskey (Maryam Ahmed)


There was a little boat out in a vast and beautiful ocean. It’s bell rang in the winds as the sails snapped full pulling the weight of it skimming each cresting wave barely touching it…

… almost flying.

How good it was to be so alive with joy!

One day the horizon grew dark and winds howled in every direction shredding the sails and ripping the bell to be rudely flung in the water. Rain pounded the deck until it was soaked and the storm wrecked that little boat on a strange shore.

No one cared about a boat. No one wanted to sail into the vast ocean. No one wanted to spend the time and money to fix the little boat properly. Now and then the boat was happy when creatures came and made temporary homes in safe places. Once there was even a grand time when some kids came to play on the boat and pretended to sail the mighty ocean in it. The little boat was happy to still have some use but when it slept the boat dreamed of dancing on the waves of blue and green under the yellow sun and the white clouds. It dreamed of the cries of dolphins and the fountains of whales.

Sometimes it seemed that it never happened. The boat had been out in the vast ocean such a short time and such a long time on the strange shore. As time passed the boat fell further and further into disrepair.

Sometimes people liked to come and be around the little boat that was now falling apart. The boat let the wind blow through holes in it’s hull and tell stories of a long ago ocean and a bell that rang clearly through the nights.

One night while the stars winked overhead and whirled in their galactic dance a breeze picked up speed and a tide came in where water had not been for hundreds of years. The boat was there but it was a ghost and only other ghosts knew it was there. The tide rolled in like the world was new and the little ghost boat felt itself rise and start to float.
Was it a dream?

The sun began to rise, slowly, over the horizon with a lovely burst of rare green. The breeze became a wind and the little boat felt that it’s sails were once more full of the riches of motion! The North Star had also set. The little boat hit the first wave and…
… the bell!

beach dawn dusk ocean
Photo by Sebastian Voortman on

The bell that was rudely thrown into the deep sea a million years ago was ringing like the day it was new! Life once more surged through that little boat and it danced like joy into the rising sun.

Rich Auntie

She was sitting in the commons like a fat white goddess. Her sitting stance window pane flat, hanging over the edges of the chair where the bottom meets the setting.
Long hair in frosted streams poorly concealing double faces bedecked with all the requisite jewels and brand names with THE PURSE.

If you saw her you might, mistakenly, think she did not belong here. Perhaps she is a visiting auntie. The rich auntie that comes and takes care of the family schizo.
“Hey HEY!” she motioned me over rather imperiously. So I zoomed over in my power chair which is provided by the state. She looked at me strangely. I was not certain what, exactly, she was looking for in me but it felt like she maybe wanted to filet me and cook me for dinner. Her smile was gentle and kind on the surface but something insane was lurking just beneath it.

“I just moved here. I hate it here. What’s your name?”

“Jan. What’s your name?”



“Yes my father is a doctor. I hate it here. Nobody likes me.”

She started to cry copiously. I was this same way when I was in grade school. An easy crier. I learned not to be over time.

“What’s wrong?”

Gasping and choking on the words she told me.

“I am fat I AM FAT I am too fat I went on Jenny Craig and Weight Watchers and I want a boyfriend and I hate my bathroom I can only use the one here in the commons and the other people here got tired of cooking and cleaning for me and I can’t smoke whenever I want I have to go out to my car and drive it across the street and…”

Ahhhhhh NOW I knew who she was!

She was the talk of our whole building! You must understand we are all sad, pitiful people with little in our lives so we are horrid gossips and terrible to each other, while smiling, most of the time. This was the ‘new’ woman who had every other resident living here that was able COOKING and CLEANING and FETCHING and RUNNING and, while she obviously had access to lots of money, failing to pay them with the requisite cigarettes she promised because it’s cheaper to give cash! If she had a different personality she could have easily had a boyfriend! The people who had helped her were angry at being treated like servants by someone who didn’t seem to understand she was doing this. They wanted a carton of cigarettes! NOT 20.00 dollars!

“If you need help you can get help that some of us here do. If your doctor says you qualify you can get a person who comes and helps you clean house and stuff and you can keep your money and buy more cigarettes!”

At this time the 70 year old lady who could twerk at the Christmas parties walked by and came and sat down and said to the choking, crying woman, “Look at Jan here! She can’t walk well and she is happy! She doesn’t need a man and she is fat too just like you! You can be happy! Kathy, upstairs, she is fat and she has a boyfriend! Look at me I am 70 years old and even I have a boyfriend! Just don’t set such high standards and you can…”
Princess was really crying now! Miss Twerk’s boof was a 30 year old hobosexual, he was homeless and he lived with the old woman so he could have a PLACE to live but princess didn’t know that part. Miss Twerk sighed and left the two of us alone again.

“My head is ringing! I want yoghurt so bad! I want yoghurt and a cookie! I want a cookie please please do you have a cookie?”

“SURE! I will be happy to help out!”

I zoomed back to my room and got a yoghurt and a cookie and a plastic spoon. I took them and zoomed back and smiled and gave them to her. She grabbed them and held them to her body like she was terrified someone would take them from her. She quit crying and, with trembling hands, she opened the cookie and, looking furtively in all directions like a small dog ready to attack, she bent her head down so low it almost hid the action of taking a shameful bite. I left her in respect to whatever was tormenting her but I wondered why it was she reminded me of a small dog? Who had done things to her that made her into this tiny princess trapped in a huge monster body?

I already knew my own story.

Insaanirant To My Muse

When my mind boils over
I don’t need anyone to care
I write my words like a battle
To remain
Nothing matters…
Only the explosion of thought
The spiking chill of heat loss
My soul speeds
It travels past my body
It sits next to you
It holds your heart inside
You are my muse
You chant each word
You make me cry out feeling
Like an insane carnival vendor
King of the impossible
You are love

Tick tick tick
Defcon minutes hardly left
Now a meeting of the goth
Pay a fee to see it all go BOOM
Watch the pretty colours…
Holding a cocktail in your hand
Beautiful cancer necklaces
Bedeck Russian necks
Let’s race to MAD-ness
Lets make the Seismic meters jump
With our power let’s pluck
Our angel-harp
Let’s give the stratosphere a kick
Let’s see if we can create cyber life
Let’s invent our way into being divine
But we can never make the mind
That makes the things of the mind
There had to be a tree to clone
There had to be an atom to split
Humans didn’t make the raw material
We use to destroy
Holy pretenders
You who think you are more than nature
More than life itself
Who want to own the world
Who won’t live to own six feet of it

While dictators destroy
Let’s leave reality
Meet me over on the corner
In the garden at the rose garden…
Let’s trespass
A public park
In the deep night when crickets sing
To a back beat water plash
A fountain in the dark
I will be there
Wearing a smile just for you
Watch you hop the stepping stones
One side you fall
Azaleas everywhere
If there are other eyes we cannot see
Let them be silent with jealousy
Cool breeze on wet skin
Easily a robe can fall
In heap around our feet
Warm on warm sweat slide
Kisses up your neck
Shameless while the world ends
Arms linked in the eternity symbol
Body to body
Heats the oldest rhythm in the world
Release almost hurts
While dictators destroy
Let’s leave reality

The human heart is war
It’s chariots manned with smokeless fire
Destiny wrote a final war to end them all
The dead beneath our feet still see

Love is a bloody thing
Why is killing so cold until it’s done
Since human created from clot
You look at life you took alone
Release the red to consecrate
Snuffed it sticks to dreams
Since time exploded from a dot
Races with the guilt you can’t erase
Radiant to desscicate
This loss of face
Conquering the whisperers
Haunted by the blood of sins
Escape to space
Beleaguered by the demons
The army of the heavens comes
Those with whom deals were made
Floating into melted bones
Who should live and who be dead
Rolled back for all eyes to see
The chess game stops
We must manifest destiny
All hold their breath
Roiling poison rolling in the clouds
All await
Gods unto ourselves
He will ride in from the skies to save
The mother who birthed us
Those who rule the world
Creating legends from the dead
Will beg to die
Beat the splitting heart of Her
Unheard torments forever bear
Waking giants from their sleep
Racing towards destruction
Hear the drums
Like mercenaries long ago
Earth shakes on conquerers quest
Screaming bloody smiles
We will be reaped
Ready to die for nothing
Walls are made to destroy
When all are gone
In one fell sweep of scythe
The earth will rise up
Laws to break
Repair the broken weave
She will cut the threads
Angels will sing
Your name is innocent
Far past forever’s end
We buried them at Nicaea
Only if you win
When women cry no more
You are exempt from sin
Only women weep for the dead
In this world we think we made
War forever in Hel
From sweat and blood
Conceived these things
Our own minds alone
Kill maim destroy all but your own
Whispering in leaders ears
Who needed angels to teach
Spilling oil in the oceans
Oceans will leap with joy
When we erase ourselves
For now

My pantry is full
Homemade cream pie in the ‘fridge
‘Clothes are clean
‘Cat is fed

Alone with Yiruma
Chinese actions heroes
Beautiful Pakistani faces
Alone with a keyboard
And one mouse
The music swells
My heart sails off on sound
I have the medicine I need
Alone with a cream pie
Eaten all alone
To replace the hug that isn’t there
Because I had to be equal
Alone with Yanni
Khal Hona Ho
Drums and grass dancers
Wen Dai Aho
Rapping freestyle by myself
Alone with the music
Fighting off memories
Exceptions to the rules
My bed is clean
I slipped once after years
For one night of nothing
It is always nothing
The few and far between
Just need
Anything would do
If it came with even fake affection
My toy-box here is full of sweets
A few good friends
No shoulder to cry on all alone
I cry upon my own
I share it with everyone else
It is a strong shoulder
This curseful blessing
No man is strong enough
The ones I love I cannot have
The ones I can have do not love me
You can have everything you need
And have nothing
I am holding out for eternity


It was a slow social day online.
He thought of the ‘old days’ just a few years back. Those were the FUN internet years. There was a space online and working it was like learning a new art-form and then, one day, the word ‘bandwidth exceeded’ started to appear on everyone’s work of art and, one by one, everyone left for a new, niftier version of communicating with each other only it wasn’t nearly as nifty.
It was just the only thing there was.
For a half a second a new FUN place emerged and quickly disintegrated. It seemed only a moment before the administrator of the whole thing sent a message to everyone in it that it would go up in cyber-flames with the start of the new year.
Then, once more, IT was the only place a person could really network.
He used to use the ‘new’ place to look up females his age that had similar interests. That was the ONLY halfway decent thing about the new place. It wasn’t long before they took that away and then looking for women he liked became infinitely more difficult. He felt like he was stuck in a slow sludge moment and the new place was getting tricky.
The message alert sounded! Maybe today would not be such a dead day after all? He left-clicked and navigated to the message window.
There she was. The girl of his dreams. He knew they were only dreams of course but he dreamed of meeting her one day. Probably heaven. They had cammed and she was pretty and he was OK with the fact that she did not do full-body nudes, like some of the girls did, looking for attention. He loved and appreciated the girls who did but she was different. It had taken him a whole year to get her to even show her face.
“CATOOOOOOO!!!!!! How are you I missed you!”
“I missed you too Pretty. It’s been a few days and no one seems to be online anymore.”
“I think everyone is growing up and getting jobs and getting married now.”
“Thanks for staying with me Pretty because I don’t know what I would do without you.”
They continued chatting this way and he was more than certain he would never marry. She always told him he would but she didn’t really understand his situation. She was loved, online, by what looked like the entire world. He was humbled she would even take note of him, personally, at all. How she ended up with thousands of admirers he could not fathom but if she was showing nudes to other guys and not him he didn’t care. He had his own stable online even if he didn’t love them.
Only she had also been missing lately.
Today felt different. She seemed preoccupied and the hours long chats of yore were no more. He was mentally preparing himself for a broken heart.
It never ceased to amaze him how he could want to die over a person he never met and still have to go out into the real world, just as he was, and act as if nothing was wrong. People in the real world had an idea that nothing online was real only…
…it was real. More real than real life in many ways. But if he left his residence in tears over an online girl they would think he needed extra medication and he didn’t need that: he needed love. That was all really. He just needed love. He needed to be someone’s hero like the day he did a remote and fixed a girl’s computer for her and she sent him a whole album of beautiful nudes for all his work. He still had that album.
She never loved him though. She never chatted with him like Pretty did and she was missing, along with everyone else.
Bored, he went surfing for new social platforms. He found many of them but they were like graveyards. Only people who loved porno or Satan were their inhabitants. As he surfed he saw a news story about a new social platform that was taking the internet by storm! Excited he went to see what it was all about and registered his information from his desk top and then logged in from his cellphone so he could import all his contacts and invite them.
They were all already there. All of them.
Not only were they already there but they had been there for months and not a single one had offered him to join. With a sinking heart he saw she was there as well. Pretty. She had gone there just as soon as she had logged off the conversation with him.
He was curious in a dark and distant way and he changed his public name and photo before he added anyone to his social circle. He put a photo of his brother as the DP. His brother was rich and handsome and all the girls chased him without mercy. He asked the girl he loved to befriend him.
She did.
“Hi! Nice to meet you! Your profile says your name is Mac. Do you have more photos of yourself? You are really handsome!”
“You are beautiful too.”
He didn’t know what to say to her. She kept a flood of chatter up and all he could write was, “Ok.”
“You are a typical male! Nothing to say!”
He could hear her laughing at him even though he couldn’t HEAR it and he could feel that she had no idea who she was laughing at. Then she did it: She sent him a nude snapshot.
He had become like all the other men she knew. Nothing. But more than that he saw his so-called ‘friends’. He insinuated himself into their conversations and asked about himself as one of his real-life friends, who also knew his real-life brother, asked him why he had two profiles.
“Hahahaha! It’s all for fishing you know? Hey where is Cato? Did any of you invite him?”
By this time the fake ‘Mac’ had a group chat with all of his old friends.
“Cato? He is a sad sack. He is creepy and we were only nice to him because of pity.” said one old friend. Pretty spoke up, “You shouldn’t talk about people that way he was a nice guy! The only thing wrong with him was that he was too needy.”
Cato listened to them talk about him. The REAL way they felt and he realized that none of them was a real friend and, with great sadness he realized he might never have really great friends.
No one noticed as he left the conversation.
He shut down his computer and he turned off his cell phone. He grabbed the hand rims on his wheel-chair and kicked the door open where he lived in public housing for the disabled and he wheeled into the bright sunshine outside. He smiled to himself and started towards the sidewalk. There was a main street that went nearby and he waited until the ‘Don’t Walk’ sign was flashing and he wheeled out into oncoming traffic during rush hour.
Cato was dead.
When the paramedics got there one asked the other one,
“Why is he smiling?”


  1. ….someday the tears will end
    The pain will go away
    Love won’t be pretend
    Beauty will always stay
  2. Someday peace will reign
    Someday Death will die
    We’ll all be young again
    Someday not trapped by
  3. Beginnings that must end
    Endings forever scribed
    You’ll be with me my friend
    Like wine your love imbibed
  4. Someday all drunk with ecstasy
    We’ll meet where all is sweet
    Until Someday real and fantasy
    Join hands and meet


Outside a world
All I want
Is how you feel
Hopping the wrong way on stage
Empty wings
Heavy curtains never move
Unless pulled away
Open on the play

Rarely sees one
Empty corner
Melting into all things
You could be love

With me

One ring purple with emotion
Existence shaken
Barely hanging on

Your song curling everywhere
Wheels running in my vision
Ignoring everything but hope

How to stay calm
How to make your heart deaf
This thing I never learned
A face like stone while dying

Gleefully play the ball
Kicking a score for the enemies
A fool melting
Derisive pigs snorting
Roaring crowds chant fades
Sweeping into nothing

Salty puddles
Raining on another planet
Different sky pictures
Trailing another star


I lived so many lives
But none of them were real
They belong to someone else
Who I can barely feel
I made promises I broke
Trying to be free
Many promises were broken
That had been made to me
At the strangest breaking
Point typing this alone
All the years are taking
All the memories gone
Living in a record
That sputters while I write
The moment but a second
No morning and no night
In spite of all the evil
In suffering is grace
I could never thank The God
Enough prostrate on my face
For every bad that came
Was also something good
Everything I didn’t get was still
Exactly as it should
Have been no matter how
Difficult the journey
There were time of joy so huge
Despair fought with at tourney
For every time that life is born
Comes with struggle screaming
All the horrors of real life
Are healed while I am dreaming

Brain Food

  1. Eyes close
    Rising above
    One bag of dirt
    Signals electric fantasy



Bodiless we dance
Sparking arcing racing
Dimensional dissolute
Meet me here


Orgies of the mind
Without logic
  1. Boring flesh subjected
    An instrument of nerve endings
    Limitless to filth or to divine


Fire up the fools who seek
Useful only for the fuel
No fighting bliss


What should be strong
A taste like wine soul spanned
Is weak in arms
Never lips did touch


One kiss destroys
  1. Here I will find you
    A quiet surface
    Boiling underneath such passion
    As only ghosts can understand
    Not only years and miles


But also centuries


That long ago moment
Just as real as now


Where my words wander
Into the smell of sweat and leather
Rushing under bridges


Waters blood life filled together
We were the universe
We are
  1. Become beloved
    In the existended realms
    Cannibalizing each other’s thoughts
    Sharing a banquet


  1. For a moment
    Time forgot Her place
    She hunkered down
    Roaring with Wind
  2. Breathing with the Earth
    In red-land arroyos
    40 years gone
    Time painted her face
    She sang for a moment
    One eternity
  3. Here I was birthed
    Swirling around me
    Wind sang too
    He put a veil
    Over my head
  4. Of winter birds
    Circling the heat rise
    City capped
    For a moment painted
    In arroyo red

The Magic Bullshit Shield


I imagine something and make it viewable. I write something and make it imaginable. I + mage = Image. We are all mages, tricksters and creators. ALL of us. How this expresses itself is the only variable.

I respond, with my tactile senses, to something and it moves me to a non-tactile ‘place.’ It moves me to the ‘mage magic’ place. This is expressed in so many ways. When I was young there was a girl who was on the cheerleading squad. I only have seen this once in my life and I have seen many cheerleading squads but she was exceptional.


I tried to figure it out for a long time. She had short, dirty dishwater blond hair. She had terrible acne. She could not do the splits of any of the fancy stuff the rest of the squad did. Her parents were poor and not ‘town team sponsors’ (which will often get an ‘average’ girl an ‘exceptional’ placement.) She was NOTHING at all like a cheerleader and she was not even a SNOB!

She was like no one I ever met and I liked her and so did everyone else. I asked her, while riding that ugly yellow signature school-bus, what her secret was. See, at that time, everyone was calling me a ‘witch’ and so I was studying that. In those days, way out in the tall grass boonies of Oklahoma, in those ranch town libraries, about the only thing you could find was about the Salem Witch Trials. She looked at me in a strange way and then she said, “I am happy and I don’t care what anyone thinks of me. I am happy anyway.”

She really WAS happy but there was more to it than that. Her personality ‘stuck out’ farther than her skin. Her soul was larger than her body. After that I started to LOOK AT people and LOOK INTO them. I learned this:

The two do not always match.

There are those walking around in this world who are very powerful people and yet do not fit any descriptors of what a powerful person should look like or be. In doing this I met many such people over the course of my life. There was the young man who was the shortest, most snaggle toothed kid in the school and yet, when he played music, the girls who hung out with the homecoming queen would ask him out on dates. Once his band mates asked him what his secret was and why weren’t they getting any action as they were tall and ripped in comparison to him. He just smiled and shook his head.

There was the hippie English teacher who was weird and stoned and yet we learned more in her class, than we ever would learn anywhere else, about language and how it works. She was tall and strange with wild black hair and everyone made fun of her. She didn’t care what they thought.

It wasn’t the ‘I don’t care’ that is a REACTION to bullies and their bull shit but an ACTION that told the bullshit people, before they reached that stage, that their bullshit was not going to work.

That was the secret. Understanding what bullshit is and making yourself impervious to it.

Bullshit proof.

So for the New Year hits that is my wish for all my friends: that you keep, or learn to wield, your magic ‘bullshit shield.’


She looked back on all that had gone before and, tonight, somehow it didn’t seem wasted. Perhaps it had been, in many ways, mostly wrong but in the depths the brilliant flashes of light were ever so much more noticeable and precious.

Indeed the night was a lonely one. They were all such nights and yet she did not feel alone this night. She had a new pet spider and an old cat with PTSD that matched hers and they got along. The cat watched the black jumping spider and, uncharacteristic for him, did not attack it. She sent them both thoughts that they were to be friends or at least respect one another.

She sat back and closed her eyes and thought about all the years. Although mostly alone she had managed to be an artist, a musician, a dancer, and a diplomat. In spite of all the wrong she had still been able to love and be loved in return and still managed to want to keep on living though the hand of cards she had been dealt had lost her the poker game of life.

It was still good.

It was still good. She prayed for the world. It seemed it was not going to go on much longer but that also seemed normal. She piloted up to the keyboard and started to write. Who would be the hero of her dreams tonight? She laughed silently and had Yiruma playing in the background. The hospital-like hallway that lead to her clean and orderly abode.

This night was different somehow.

Leaning forward, slightly crooked, she started with the two finger waltz upon the key symbols that worked the magic. She stopped typing the words and let the images roll into her and she stood and untied the knots, in the long skirts, that kept her unsteady old feet from tripping and she stood and the room melted away into night.

In this place there was no cold or heat too much. It was perfection. She closed her eyes and made a wish and smelled the scent of pine and fresh snow. She opened her eyes. She was there. Hawks glided overhead in slow circles on a blue black sky as the sun rose over the peak of a mountain. The valley, still in early pre-dawn shadows, had the sound of roosters crowing and other birds came slowly awake. She raised her hand, young and strong, her arm covered in gold bracelets, to shade out the first stunning brilliance of the day, her head suddenly dropped to pray, the other world forgotten.

“God let me meet him here…”

The man she loved. The man she had never really met. The one who saved her in her dreams within dreams of the other world where she slept. There she was and old lady at the end of things but here she was a young lady at the start of them. Her hair was red gold like it was long ago. The shade of dark honey. She could feel it’s weight in the braid that lay along her spine as she leaned forwards to see the valley start to grow light closest to her feet and slowly crawl down towards the valley floor.

At the bottom, mist covered deep green.

She came here to wait for him all every day and would until her time ran out. She tried to imagine what he looked like as she has seen him in a dream of a dream once a long time ago but now she had almost forgotten. Would she know him if she saw him?

“I have watched you come here every day and never said anything to you and you never could see me except in the sleep of sleeps. You keep asking for me and I am here all the time.”

She turned because she heard him in her head but not with her ears. He was sitting on the edge of a pathway watching the same sun come up and watching her. She walked over and stood behind him. Even sitting her hands rested on his slender shoulders. He was that tall. She watched his hands reach backwards and slide over hers to cover them.

“I have loved you a very long time. You keep looking everywhere and I am right here. I am every man you ever write about. I am all your darkest fantasies and your most brilliant love poetry. I am jealouse of what you imagine when you put different faces on it and when you flirt with other men I come and put a storm in your sky in the place of the sleep of sleeps.”

She could not hear him but she could HEAR him!

His hair was the shade of pale wheat. It was tied back in a long thin braid that also went down his back. Not thin hair but very straight, the opposite of hers. He let go of her hands and ‘told’ her to sit next to him.

By this time the flat, white rooftops of a large city spread out in the slowly seeping light. She slid down and sat next to him, hanging her feet, wearing golden sandals, off the edge of the pathway. It never occurred to her why she was this way here in this reality. She looked over at him.

He was not beautiful the way she understood beauty. He was very pale. His eyes were larger than normal and very black and his face was long and thin and his mouth very small. He was so thin that, had he been human, he would have looked starved yet on him, a spirit, it looked perfectly normal. Perhaps the oddest thing was the fact that she was the size of a small child when she sat next to him and she edged closer and fit there like a child would fit and it felt so safe. He wore jeans and a plaid shirt and it looked weird on him and he laughed in her mind, “I can appear any way you want me to appear but this way I find the most comfortable. You want me to be Cinnamon?”

She kept looking at him and he suddenly had brown eyes and olive skin and was wearing a red-brown kameez. Almost blond hair and a long dark beard. They were near the same height. She reached out and the illusion vanished and then he was taller with black eyes and a huge smile and fine features with curly crispy dark hair and a white starched cotton shirt and then that too went away as he morphed all the faces she ever loved.

“Whatever makes you happy. I can be that but I want you to love me. The real me.” Once more he was the abnormally tall humanoid with black eyes and blond hair. “This is not me either but I this is how I came to you the night you wanted to die. I love you. You have belonged to me since the day you were born and if you think you are 100 percent human you are mistaken. For now you have a life to live in the sleeping time of the sleeping world but when it is done you will be with me forever.”

He stood and opened his arms. She came into them and he became insubstantial and merged with her very soul. No humans love this way. Without words she felt like the most beautiful queen earth ever knew. She felt like the love of thousands was directed at her and she heard him say, deep in her mind as he took her hand and walked a few steps on the path with her,

“You are all these things and more and this is just the beginning. You are loved beyond human measure.” She closed her eyes to swim in that sea of love and opened them and smiled.

Yiruma was playing. The room in the world of sleeping was cheerful and bright and she sat there, mused, in front of the key board, now old with mended clothes and painful frame but back in reality was a land of beauty that would be hers one day.

“I love you too.” she whispered.Featured Image -- 3297

The Ones We Never Get

The most epic loves are the ones we never get.

I say this, not to take away from those relationships that people have throughout their lives because it takes a deep and spiritual love to stay the course with someone for 40 or 50 years and forgive the horrendous things humans do to each other, but I say this in the sense of the idea of a kind of dream-like purity that transcends the ordinary. Of this unrequited love the stuff of epic myth and romance comes. Beethoven composed ‘Fur Elise’ and Edgar Allan Poe wrote ‘Annabelle Lee’ for these reasons.

But it isn’t always about who dies. Death can also be metaphorical. A person can spend a lifetime at the altar of Love and never have ‘it’ as ‘It’ is understood from time immemorial. The Kama Sutra was written by monks living on a mountaintop.

The love you never get is exquisite. It takes on a life of it’s own and it becomes a part of the definition of who we are as we project ourselves onto it in a way that could never be if we had to live with it’s human counterpart every day. It is never indecorous. It is the perfection of Galatea. It never grows old. We may grow old but it lives inside our brains like a diyah light in a dark and endless Alone. It is the companion of the old, the poor, and the forgotten. It is the muse of poets and artists and it is the reason why the one no one wants, smiles, for no reason, in the flow of uncaring Life.

This is the love that sings chorus after chorus of the impossible and rides the crest of dreams. It is the Voice of the self that seeks to belong to itself and it is the desire to give freely of the secrets you have made of the epic nothingness you shaped into beauty. It is the unspoken savagery of lust and the soaring flights of purity and it sings the whole range from bass to soprano with one throat.

It looks at the world from a thousand faces so lovely and yet so unaware of their own beauty and it holds them like gems, uncaring they be glass or diamonds. Yet with millions of words there is no way to describe how this great love feels in it’s totality of expression from the depths of the sewers to the roof of the skies.

The love you never get cannot be owned, It can’t be traded or tossed away or forgotten. It will find you while you cry over what was lost and take your hand and lead you into a new tale. It is never wasted time. For some it is all they will ever have. The love that was never conquered is like nature in it’s pristine and untamed state: lovely and devastating.

It makes you joyous you can still feel the depths of loss even as you get up out of the pool of tears and keep on going.Roses


  1. You never leave me
    You have lit thousands of nights
    With the gold flecks
    Dancing in merry eyes
    I worship you
  2. Alone
  3. Your voice
    Trying to escape
    This intensity
  4. Yes
    Tsunamis are just ripples
    Tornadoes only dust devils
    Perhaps vulcanic
    If so
    It was when time began
    Sleeping now under tears
  5. Raining
  6. Destiny is such a bitch
    She gave me you
    She snatched you away
    Her years ate you
  7. Here
    Deep in my heart
    I worship you by myself
  8. Forever nameless
  9. You caress my skin with air
    You warm me with the sun
    In the depths of my mind
    You are the only untainted spirit left
    Maybe satan refused to bow to aadmi
    But I will bow to you
    In your far away throne
    Shining as the mirage
  10. Glimmers
  11. In the deserts of my soul
    I tried
    To recreate Time
    Found it was not possible to move
    Reversinging chanting wishes
    As if these sounds
    Could make myths live
    I worship you
  12. Alone
  13. Yet even now
    Your voice makes me soar
    3000 miles away
    You never see my tears
  14. Over and over
    I found bits of you
    Scattered over the playing fields
  15. Lost in the wind
  16. I am still happy
    To stand and watch the love
    Belong to everyone else
    The God must surely love me
    Though tears run freely
    Through these words
  17. You will never be my dream
    You will never know me
    Only a clown
    Crying through a painted smile
  18. You feel it now I know
    What it means to love
  19. You are more beautiful
    With every day that passes
    You will only ever speak to him now
  20. I will lay here in these lovely fields
    That bloom within these bones
    Where magic is alive
  21. You may never speak to me again
    But you cannot stop this heart
    It will beat until Destiny calls it home.

Big Pharma

She went for the job interview at the pharmacy and they said the last part was a lie detector test.

(She never forgot this it haunted her all her life.)

She was trying hard to find a job but no one believed she was. They thought she was trying to sabotage it so no one would ever hire her. People in her own family had no idea how hard she tried.

She had just lost a job as a waitress because she could not remember the seating of the tables fast enough and everyone chided her,

“You read so fast and you are so smart and yet you can’t even recall the placement of tables in a restaurant? You MUST be lying!”


All the time she heard that word over and over like the words ‘witch’ and ‘crybaby’ and ‘loser’ and the list of words was endless. She was trying to get a job in the local pharmacy with the ‘shi shi’ girls. She really thought she could do it and the interview went so well….

She went into the office where they did the lie detector stuff and decided to be totally honest no matter what they asked. She did not rehearse anything. They hooked her up and she was terrified of the gadgetry but managed to mask her face. This was IT. She had to do well!

The man kept trying to get a reading. He adjusted the gear. He adjusted the terminals. He shook his head. He set the operation up twice and that made her even MORE nervous. Surely this was not going to wrong! She had failed so many times. She didn’t know why she was so smart and so stupid at the same time. All she knew was that most people hated her, jeered at her, or ignored her in embarrassment.

“What’s your name?”

She told him the truth.

Have you ever done drugs?

She told him the truth.

Every question she answered with bald honesty and he shook his head again and cut the interview short. He would not answer any questions.

She lost the job.

She went to the pharmacist and asked him point blank why she didn’t get the job. Her papa made her do it because he wanted to know what she was doing wrong in the interviews so that she could get a job.

“Why didn’t I get the job?” she asked the pharmacist.

“Well…” he looked down almost ashamed…”Well you lied about everything.”

“But I didn’t lie! You know my name and family and the answers! You know them before I gave them! The test was just incidental you know I answered truthfully YOU KNOW ME! My name is Mary Shannon McCloskey and I answered EVERY QUESTION with total honesty!”

He looked almost embarrassed and said, “I know you answered honestly but we can’t employ someone who thinks they are lying about their own name.”

She looked at the girls behind the pharmacy counter. All beautiful. All with perfect hair and teeth and smiles. The pharmacist reached out and scraped his finger on her nose. She hated that because her nose is what everyone made so much fun of. Her flat chest and her huge nose. He waved his finger in her face.

“Blackheads. You have blackheads.”

She dropped her head and went out to her papa’s sedan. She told him the truth. “They say I am a liar. I told them my real name and they say I am a liar. I told them the truth and they say I am a liar.”

Her papa’s face looked sardonic.

“You are a liar.”

She went back later to ask for that job if it wasn’t taken. There was an older woman behind the counter.


Ruth was not beautiful on the outside but she was on the inside and she watched that girl-who-always-failed ask for that job and called her over,

“Hun. I want to hire you.”

She looked over at the shi shi girls in their ivory tower and she looked at the hot grill and the bacon press and the soda fountain. She squared her shoulders and said, “Yes I will work for you.”

It was the first real job she was ever good at. She wasn’t very good at it at first but the clientele of one of the last ice-cream soda parlours in America were forgiving. Ruth did not mind her screw ups and soon she was the best damn grill cook ever and, at the end, could open and close the whole little corner on her own but every day she had to LOOK at the people she was ‘less than’.

One day she said a cuss word loud enough to hear it. She didn’t mean anything bad by it.

That old pharmacist came sailing around the corner and started to yell at her about using bad language in front of all the shi shi girls and the customers and everything. She lost it. She cried so hard that everyone in the store left. She forced the pharmacist to let her call her papa to come get her on the public telephone. She sat out on the curb for two hours and when he got there she was finished crying.

Dry as a dead bone in a desert. She had nothing to say to anyone for two days.

He was angry but not surprised. Why should he be surprised? She was a loser.

I Will

I seek the hands reaching
Eyes seeing only the dirt below

I grab your unsuspecting hand
A part of you will desire to run
A part of you will desire to run with me

A pulse jumps through your palm
Moving the hairs


Night aires playing
With stars in your head
Rewriting old words with trails of light
As beautiful and new
As they were five million years ago
When we tracked the trails of heaven
Through Sumerian skies

This short disgusting lovely thing
We call ‘life’
It is the epic of the Universe
Permeating every layer of existence

Come with me
Let these hands linked reach past the edge
Above and below
A force to my magma
Fires of the skies
Oceans full

Be my song
Be the smile life writes on my face
And I will write you as the hero
At the apex of the arches

The grass will be thick and soft
Hillsides will be gentle
You are all existence
I am the void

Together we are majestic
Together we are beauty

It’s time to go now
I will let go of you
Like I have let go of every teacher
Who was a student at the doors of my heart
You will slip into the void
From fantasy into concrete
Your feet will walk
Where things are hard

This is how it is
When we fly

To know
What shakes the abyss with madness
To bathe
In what fills all space with light
Living inside the surface
Of an iridescent bubble

I orbit your sun
You shine on my face
Nothing held back