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“There’s so much crazy in the world,” Susan trailed off, cigarette barely held in place by thin lips too wrinkled to know otherwise. She shook the newspaper as if some truth would fall out — or maybe a couple of extra bucks toward next month’s rent. Al grunted and shifted in his ribbed tank, love…
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—Like an ocean, Vaughn holds the photograph— voice on the other side . One side: Picture this. The other: me, you, inside out. White noise Bird’s-eye view? Even rivers run dry. Cry. Untucked, meat, your way—yes please, king. Angel sent, then spent. Another chance: awake to die. Mama gave birth to a sun—amidst a cold…
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Love Song — The Cure, 1989 She called at 4pm. I was driving, listening to Red Hot Chili Peppers on a YouTube Music playlist, when the volume dropped and a small message scrolled across the CarPlay display: Love Song. That was the name I’d given her years back, substituting her initials, because every time I…
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There is always the desire to have things explained—to make sense of it all, even when it makes no sense and the fault lies with oneself. It is human nature to want an explanation. But so many things just don’t make sense, and so many others simply have no explanation. They just are. Sure, in…
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and the sound of a drum. It’s March 1, 2026and somewhere in a desertan oil field away, we marchwith tiny dronesand lizards with legs that roll on steel wheels and trackslaid as they move.Rommel was a Fox.Bush was not a burning one.But this trumps them all—for now,until it doesn’t and we leavewith destruction behind.Say it…
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You believed in mepast my ability. I didn’t have it. I know that now. Once I begged for yes.You said yes.I rose. Once I begged for no.You said no.I stayed down. We made three.They carry us both. You were ground.I was light. This morning a dream:You at a door.I couldn’t speak.You couldn’t hear. Seven years.…
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ramblings in a day in the life…from journals (if you’re into that sorta thing) February 24–26 It’s Tuesday, or Taco Tuesday in Sierra Madre, but I’m fasting so that may not happen today. Lent is the season where Jesus went into the desert and fasted for forty days. No eating. Dang, that’s a while —…
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The Olympics finally gave curling some airtime this year — more than I ever remember seeing. Women’s, men’s, the whole slow-motion shuffle. First time you watch, if you’ve never seen it, your brain short-circuits: This is a sport? Olympic worthy? Really? You hear the terms — stones, brooms, sweeping — and it sounds like someone’s…
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Life—it’s me.Rent is due.Work is slow.I am sick. I wish there was a meterin the skycounting how hard I’ve tried.I’d look upand knowif I’m winningor losingjust like everyone else.But even thatI’d find a wayto mess up. The road is potholes now.Smooth partsonly make me scaredof what comes next.I drive slow.Listen for air.Wait for somethingto break.…
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***** a smear of days. a smear of light on the wall. the clock eats its own tail. got a number. a bad number. a cancer full of ghosts. google said: dead man. maybe. i thought: fine. i’ll just leak out quiet. didn’t tell nobody. told everybody. my boy’s voice on the phone. a crack…
“All colors made me happy even grey.” Nabokov, Pale Fire
A German carpenter by day working hard to follow a Jewish carpenter, exploring writing as a creative outlet. Passionate about learning through practice and observation.
BB Grey--musings 