Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
He saw a spot of blood on the path. One led to another, and then a series, about every thirty-six inches. They were not dry, but fresh. After following the blood for a few minutes (going north), he concluded the blood path went south, into the park.
After a moment, he followed the blood into the park. His nature didn’t allow any other outcome.
Into the groove
thinking writing typing thinking
staring
coffee cup raised
staring
listening to the muses
staring
at the scenes
staring
hands poised over the keyboard
staring
head down
staring
into the groove
Roasted
dark
hot and waiting
aromas drift
and capture
carry
and hold
heat comes
to my lips
and tongue
and the flavor
slides up
into my
mind
A persistent assistant
and ever-present friend
he’s with me wherever I’m at
it’s an established trend
In the bed
on the pot
across the street
by the vacant lot
On the chair
when I read
by the table
when I feed
He needs to know
what I’m doing
and watches around corners
(I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling)
Wherever I go
he is there
as if my being
is his only care
But once in a while
I spy on him as he’s sleeping
watching him move paws and whiskers
wondering, what’s he dreaming?
Hello, it’s December
the month after November
just a few months removed from September
do you see where this is going?
Hello, it’s a new day
are you gonna do a new way
or are you just gonna stay
with the hand that you’ve been playing?
Hello, it’s a new time
but I can’t find another rhyme
to carry on this theme of mine
so I guess that I’ll be endng.
old boy
old dog
old cat
old man
old song
old ways
old love
old pain
old dreams
old life
old math
old strife
old hope
old home
old sticks
old bones
Michael Seidel, writer 