DAYDREAMS is a journal of my thoughts, the fiction that colors my mind. Each post is a thought of its own. They are not meant to be connected; although, one will inevitably toy with another. You can expect to see one or two episodes a week. They will mostly be prose; but if you prefer, you can define them as poetry.

Episode Four

Act One-

A sparrow’s foot is tied to the string of a helium balloon,
a metallic balloon that reflects and blends with the clouds.

For a time it is frantic to fly unencumbered, but soon
it concedes and hangs upside down.

It drifts over houses and fields,
concludes that its life has found a new meaning.

Act Two-

From the ground his slow fall is hidden by darkness.
Beneath him are flashes of light, like Roman candles flaring
in the hands of small children.

As he lands he rolls on the turf, then gathers his chute.
There is smoke in the air and a strong smell of sulphur.

Tucked in his pocket is a photo of his wife
and another of a hot rod he built as a teen.

Act Three-

I am thinking that this isn’t fiction, but rather a remembrance
of history: how the riggers checked all the lines,
and once in the air the way the gondola was swaying,
became like a glass bottomed boat
showing new views of the sea.

Recalling this story I know that he must have been frightened
as he looked down on Paris, the grid of its streets
and the people like ants.

Tethered to the ground he held firm in one place.

To prove it was real he took photos, covered his head
with a the dark canvas hood and saw the whole world
was inverted.

Act a Four-

Every few minutes 328 thousand pounds of aluminum
flies over Chicago’s northern suburbs on the way to O’Hara.
Lights act as a guide to the runway.
No one hears noise anymore,
or ever looks up.

Act Five-

All my mentors suggest I can do anything and be anything,
all I have to do is give it my all.

So lately I’ve been jumping and flapping my arms,
running and trying to lift off the ground,
just being sarcastic,
a total jackass.

NOTE: Act Three is an accounting of the first aerial photographs taken from the basket of a ballon in 1863 by Gaspard-Felix Tournachon.

b e g i n n i n g - t o - e n d

I am a retired art teacher and a wannabe writer. Everything I create is for my own enjoyment. I don’t work for others because I want total freedom to express what I want. All the work I post is original.

DAYDREAMS / RECENT EPISODES

EPISODE THREE
EPISODE TWO
EPISODE ONE