Flash Fiction Link: Detox


There was silence. My dad felt lower than any point in his life, even worse than the day my mother walked out on him. His shiny bald head reflected the harsh ceiling light; his blue eyes sparkled with tears. He knew that the bottle was destroying him from the inside out. He also knew that I was giving him an opportunity to get sober.

Excerpt from Detox.  Read Detox on Friday Flash Fiction.

Crow Friday: Planting Happiness


I planted healthy words
deep into the ground
with the other
words that I found 
in my heart’s pocket. 

I made sure I planted
love and healing
near the pond
where I used to watch the koi
and goldfish swim.

I made sure that all my words
were carefully planted and pruned,
given plenty of fresh water
and the right amount
of gratitude.

I made sure that my dog
didn’t dig up happiness
or that my kids didn’t
trample on the flower bed
of peace and respect.


Tuesday’s Picture: Women’s Shoe Department

Waiting in Norstrom

for my wife

in the women’s shoe department

is like taking a treacherous journey

through the Amazon rainforest

without a tour guide,

not sure what I might find,

not sure if I’ll come back


Tuesday’s Picture: Nasal Strips

The buzz of the fan,

the hum of the air-cleaner

plays in the night

as the two of us sleep,

each with a nose strip

stuck to the bridge

opening up nostrils,

enabling the air flow

to pass through our bristly sinuses.

But the snoring

never stops, it aggravates:

snorting, gasping, gurgling

like two warthogs

being raucous

in the moonlight.