Monday, February 28, 2005

He stared at the pale pink on her fingernails; he wondered whose skin the fingers would trace in the evening.

Thursday, February 24, 2005

He realized he was looking at a vision of the future: everywhere he looked were cell phones, iPods, portable computers, tools to stay connected and locked in to a reality that was becoming less about the here and now, and more about there and then.

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

With foam stuffed in his ears, he turned up the car stereo and felt the bass shake his body as he sped down the interstate, sign-posts and riffs zipping past like loose change in a bum's pocket.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Once in the air, words become difficult to retrieve or stuff back in the lungs with the breath which gave them life.

Monday, February 21, 2005

His nightly dreams disturbed him in his waking world; the dream world was drawing him in and creating doubt with the passage of the sun.

Sunday, February 20, 2005

The salty scent of Play-Doh tickled his nose hairs.

Saturday, February 19, 2005

His breath caught in his throat when he realized people were (still) reading his words.

Friday, February 18, 2005

In his sleep, the baby stretched between mother and father, hands and feet seeking warmth and protection.

Thursday, February 17, 2005

He felt the hard, calloused skin on the side of his long, middle finger, and he realized he was, indeed, a writer.

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

She kept thinking his life as a writer reflected some sense of reality, while he saw the words as bulbs of fiction waiting for sunlight and water to burst into the world and show colors.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

"The blue one," he said, "the blue one is one I can't let you read."

Monday, February 14, 2005

Red hearts adorned her vision; her hands were empty.

Sunday, February 13, 2005

The night grew quickly; he was thankful the darkness hid his sins.

Friday, February 11, 2005

She dreams of Vin Diesel; he dreams of students cluttering his living room and searching for truth.

Thursday, February 10, 2005

The baby's laugh was throaty and loud; the sparkle from his eyes traveled the distance through the phone.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

The television drew him in, calling his name, sucking the marrow of action from his life.

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

The soles of his feet were cracked and red; he walked with the determination of an old man navigating a sidewalk covered in ice.

Monday, February 07, 2005

Head swimming, a clatter of brain, he tried to remember what he'd forgotten to do.

Sunday, February 06, 2005

His first glance across the nave stole his soul, a fluttering in his chest worrying him, a sense of returning embracing him in the mimicked vision of his first wife.

Saturday, February 05, 2005

Opening the door he noticed first the complete quietness of the house; no sounds of life and an emptiness hit him full face like a blast of heat in the winter air.

Friday, February 04, 2005

The excitement of the crowd drove him to a frenzy; he cried out, "Dear Muses, dear Muses, I must have a shoe."

Thursday, February 03, 2005

He watched her from across the cafe, her blonde hair golden against the black, tight vest; when she knelt down to pick up a napkin, the flash of her tan lower back caught his attention.

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

Night fog covered the Big Easy, making the sky alive with crystal light.