Tagged: walk

not knowing any-

not knowing any-
thing about fly fishing and
walking in water,

we stood at the water’s edge,
taking bets on when he’d fall in

to play the role of

to play the role of
a guest is to walk a fine
line between giving

and receiving – never arrive
or depart empty-handed

seeing and being

it takes one walk to

from a distance, we

from a distance, we
imagine we are walking
the same walk, but where

one has a choice to stay, the
other is forced to stay still

we can’t imagine

we can’t imagine
what autumn will bring this year,
and we count ourselves

lucky to be still standing,
ready to walk across that bridge

we all do it – place

we all do it – place
one foot in front of the other,
over and over,

knowing and not knowing when
we’ll need to brace for impact

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: brace

after a few go-

after a few go-
arounds, you learn that some books
can be completely

judged by their covers – walk away,
don’t give them a second glance

on a scale of walking

on a scale of walking
into traffic and
walking into the sea,
last night i
chose the sea,
and when i reached it,
you called me
out of the blue,
an accusatory tone
in your voice,
taking me back
to the days when
i’d arrive at my
childhood home
and not ring you up.
i was found out,
i leaned the
heaviness against you
so that i could
find a new
balance, and you
shifted so that you
could accommodate
the weight. i
wandered alongside,
instead of into,
though the sound of
the waves will always
compete with your voice


it is known, or

it is known, or
rather felt, that
memories get
shifted around
in the body, from
eyes, to liver,
to heart, to
fingers, to
skin, to feet.
how else can
we explain
the heaviness
from walking
away, walking
off, walking
to make sense
of it all, to
stop the rest
of the body
from feeling