Fictional Tendencies



The Mountain

The Mountain.

A journey to new heights.
The foundation of new and exciting challenges.
The immovable.
A destination for respite.
A place to call home.
A place to get lost.
A place of solitude and togetherness.
Wild and free.
A strict adherer to the laws of nature.

Yet, even the mountain
Has its head in the clouds.



That inner dialogue
Is deceptive
In its delegation

If we allow it

The subtleties of our hearts
Are humbled
While we listen to the soul of truth

Innocence died in the arms of a hopeful child
Their memory tainted in confusion


And the gossamer gladly glides
Spinning in a gilded web
Spiritual and emotional growth
Grab hold

A grateful heart rejoices



It’s unspoken,
I read it in your smile.

Your eyes;

Whisper truth and strength,
A secret hidden for all to see.

There, within your movement,
an honesty so genuine,
it’s often misunderstood.

Your touch,
the kiss of a gentle zephyr.

Your voice-

“May I call you by your true name?”




Shh, quiet.
The darkness is too loud.
I’m drowning.

This addiction will be replaced,
Supplemented with another,
And another.

And another.

The void will never be filled with such trivial things.

Take pause and reflect,
They abyss is all-consuming…if I let it be.

Oh! A surprise.
A discovery.
The truth; so heavy, yet a weight is lifted.

A primal scream.

I’ll return tomorrow and listen to my echo reply.


My wife and I have spent the last day and a half removing 99% of all furniture from the second story of our house and moving it all downstairs. Our house is a somewhat organized mess. She spent the last two weeks painting our kids rooms, all in preparation for new carpet. It was scheduled to rain today, which it is (drizzling more than raining) so we were told to have a two car garage open and available so the installers can cut the carpet and not have it get wet. We were told that if our garage wasn’t available we would be charged a cancellation fee of $450. So I spent the last part of the late evening cleaning our the garage and the first part of this morning moving my mountain bikes into the backyard.

We’re ready, for the most part, and so is the house. Let’s get this new carpet installed. We were given an arrival time between 8:00 A.M. and 10:00 A.M. My wife heads out with our daughter and one of our dogs; our daughter has a doctor’s appointment and our dog has an appointment at the vet. I stay home and move the last bit of furniture downstairs and sit and wait. The windows are open. I listen to the water runoff drip on our patio cover, remember it isn’t raining so much as it’s drizzling or misting. I’m drinking coffee, it’s 9:30 A.M and the installer has called in sick. Does this mean we get to charge a cancellation fee? Our time and effort is worth something.

What to do? The house will continue to stay a mess until tomorrow, the installation has been rescheduled. The rain graduates from a light drizzle to a very light rain. I hear birds, swallows, chirping. I look out into the backyard and see a pudgy little sparrow hop along the fence line and ruffle its feathers. Three or four swallows dart over the neighboring yards. And a hummingbird sits in our apple tree.

I think it would be great if I were to grab my camera and lens (Pentax K70 with 55-300 mm) and hope that by the time I return to the sliding glass door the humming bird will still be there. As luck would have it, the hummingbird was still sitting in the apple tree. I walked out onto the patio, under the cover, and leaned against one of the three support beams. The rain was coming in sideways, my bare feet were getting wet. I zoomed in, extending the focal length the full 300 mm, both my camera and lens are weather resistant, and spent the next thirty minutes taking pictures of the hummingbird.

I guess today wasn’t a complete waste, even if plans didn’t work out as expected.

Your journey starts with a step, where are you headed.


In the Garden of Revelations

the moon is hidden
and sighs a heavy breath

a fog patrols the endless sky

as the ashes of our ancestors walk on wind

a light flickers prismatic

while the grey night lingers
in silence

these tears are not mine own.


Calligraphic Soul

I find, that when I write,
I cannot hide

Pen to paper,
Numerous imperfections,
I’m perfection,

The one and only me.

And yet,

I find, that when I type,
I can hide

You see me as a ghost
A spectral echo
Cast among the shadows of men

Where doubt and false confidence
Breed assumptions
And expectations

While a mere reflection of me
Is lost, somewhere
Deep within the holograms written

With the hope of growth
And self-discovery.

After (Food for) Thought

After (Food for) Thought

Am I a Ghost?

An apparition of a memory
Either long forgotten
Or purposely avoided?

Am I a Skeleton?

Left behind in the closet
When you moved,
Leaving me for the new family to neglect.

Am I the Eulogy?

Read by the Pastor to an empty room,
Except for his wife, sitting in the middle of a pew on the left-hand side
Nodding and smiling politely.

Am I the Tombstone?

Mocked by dirt and grass
As it grows wild and thick,
While the worms dine elsewhere.

Am I alive?


When a Giant Falls/Salutations from Eternity

When a Giant Falls

What will you do
When the mountain falls?

When lightening cries and thunder claps?

What will you do
When the oak dies?

When the swaying tree begins to snap?

What will you do
When the oceans rise?

When the rivers and lakes run dry?

What will you do
When the sky turns black?

When the sun shines its last goodbye?

Salutations from Eternity

Would you cry in shame?
Your neglect,
The cause.

Would you take pause?

Would you appreciate
Even though
It’s too late?

Would you honor
All that
You’ve destroyed?

Trying to fill the void?

Salutations from Eternity
As we drift across the endless sea.

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