"Ghostlets..."

I was invited to speak on a Halloween Show ...about Ghosts

I was invited to give a Ghost Story on World Poetry Open Mic for their Halloween broadcast sooooooooooo...

 

Trick or treat - the “gobble-ins” are out and about.  Chuckling here.   I hand out the goods each year …hoping to see the ghosts wave, turn, and walk away… sigh, maybe one day …one day…

 

“Ghostlets…”

 

There was this bar in Kin -

too young to buy in California

but …we’d earned our rite of passage

then …just as now. Mama-san knew us well,

hard woman but she hugged me once

…but that’s another moment.

 

“Was late fall, back in ’69 - ’70.

Strange how you remember whens -

isn’t it?

Clear as the mud you wore,

the dirt you hugged and ran through your fingers.”

 

“A real Indian summer’s day.

Bloodwarm, clear - moon-bright transparent …ink

of a night…

’til midnight neared.”

 

“‘Tween then and 2,

clouds grew …high aloft -

gathering, darkening, closing in,

roiling - moving.

The shadows - long and flowing,

uneven patterns as the moon broke through

and through,

and through - paused, crazy glow and glistens

…then…

…the dark - tightened…”

 

“As we listened…  somehow breathing,

gazing back …and forth

back and forth…”

 

“The air had this rhythm of life -

come and gone

touch, feel, whisper…

come …and gone …then

not a breath, of breeze or ours -

everything HELD

as the sounds …paused… and slowly returned,

back and forth,

began to grow, build, flow,

back …and forth,

now louder and louder still.”

 

“Cicadas stuttering, as each pause …grew.

Came to life.

Bitterns and crakes - gulls too.

Echoing… echoing…

the sounds of feathered wings,

…leathered wings…

dripping, sawgrass rustling,

mud being moved.

Heavy-padded feet brushing,

ALL moving - round and around - flowing

lost in the dark.

Waiting …in the dark… waiting…

In the dark.”

 

“Gawd - sweat is cooold at 2 a.m.

and the mind numb from racing and startles

and thoughts seeping in-and-out,

in-and-out …for hours on end.

Eyes burn.

Hands have this shake you come to know

and the smoke ya can’t have will NEVER taste this good.”

 

“The afterimage is some kinda orange-white-yellows-black …swirls

and speckles white and black, bright grays -

dots and see-me-stars

pulsing, moving through your vision

edge-to-edge - eyes open

…or not.  And you can’t hear.

Lips move but it’s all so far away…

So very, very far …away.”

 

“Ya can’t measure time by forevers …you just live em.

Finally you breathe again

and again… the heart slows,

shivers begin… you’re alive.

Damn, you’re alive.”

 

Sigh…

 

“This rounds on me…

…Missing friends…” he said.

 

Chris

Author's Note

Happy Halloween. Feel free.

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[olla]

oh.... shivering here......