Eye of Elisha.

I received the "Eye of Elisha" by Brandilyn Collins in the mail today. I am currently on the second chapter.

I will update more later.

A man in Flint wears a brown beret,

A man in Flint wears a brown beret,
Keeps quiet about the news.
His anger is loud, he picks up an old newspaper
And swats a fly on the window. Like a flower,
It withers and fades. The bus pulled to a stop
Beside the old woman, and she climbs aboard,
All smiles and cheers. Her face is a cloud of smiles
On a stormy day. The rain falls outside.
On the beach, a man named Joseph scours
The beach for forgotten pennies,
Pennies he could trade in at the bank for twenty dollar
Bills. His mother tells him he must love Jesus,
A man who has died years before,
He must pray to him every day.
All the while, his great-aunt, Trixie, scolds him for reading
A book about the Buddha, and he lives alone.

In the darkening Atmosphere.

The trees vanish after centuries,
glaciers form from huge cavernous rocks
in the ground. Snow in the Himalayas
are melting at a rapid rate;
herons settle in ponds of North America.

A change in the atmosphere, bodies littering
the ground in Hoa An, the landscape is quickly
changing.

Four years old, I was reading by firelight,
the shadow flickering on the walls. The wind
pushes me constantly, in a spiral,
I spin until I fall down.

The sun is dark. The streets are dark in winter
and summer, and a lone whale stakes itself on
the beach in California. As far as I know,
all the pelicans have gone home.

Muse.

If you are in fact a blank piece of paper
where are the words? Where is the flower

that snuffs out the bread, where is the
bold metaphor that calls to me

in the dark of the night, wanting to be written,
waiting to be heard? I have
not eaten the bread yet nor have I sniffed

the life out of the flower,
the beginning of a new poem, the beginning of
something that has not yet been written.


(Found this old poem, for your reading.)

My current taste in fiction books.

I feel like reading a very thick novel. I have the last Harry Potter book, but I do not feel like reading a fantasy at the moment. Maybe Michael Crichton, or Tom Clancy, Elizabeth Moon, or Nelson Demille.