where the writers are
5 7 09 Tommi NYC and after 046.jpg


February 19





Though ignorance may be bliss, living in the shadow of someone else’s ignorance is sheer hell.  The confusion is bad, but the lies are worse.  Want to cripple a child for life give it to a well meaning fool who has the rule book to the wrong board game, that child will grow to need crutches they don’t make and medicine they can’t brew.  Dependant on misguided insanity the child will require a miracle cure and may lack the ability to ingest it.  Best case scenario the kid makes a brave escape into a world she can barely comprehend, worse case she turns the rule book upside down and reads it backwards to her own unfortunate brood.  Ignorance is always a twilight proposition, half agreement the other half handcuffed nightmare.  Full consent is by necessity impossible while blameless innocents is similarly unachievable.  The only suggestion I can make from this side of the looking glass is to pick your poison and plan your getaway.




Rain encouragement down in your dreams






I have passed my days emptying them. 
Like bread crumbs on a trail of rescue 
Expecting them to facilitate redemption 
And if not that at least retreat. 

I release an audible sigh 
As I let each evening slip to the path behind me 
The future I view as a cliff I am nearing 
I hope to be ransomed before the edge. 

I plan carefully how to stay in sync with revision 
Things must be resolved and revert 
But this is not the way. 
The past is there to be mined. 

Inert gold as well as land mines linger beneath the surface 
The days stream on. 
I am not nearing the limit 
I am shrinking from hope. 

I turn my eyes from expectancy with a shutter 
Deeply, I realize I must leave my fairytale life 
And walk away with my days in my pocket 
A treasure------mine to spend.