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About gimble

I've never understood why solitary confinement is considered a punishment. My favorite time of year is when vacation forces me to drive long hours on the overnight stretch, all other companions in the car asleep, my thoughts and the dark stretch of white-striped road all to myself. Having said that, I can happily keep busy inside my head, yet am distracted by so much of the larger world that I waste time putting those thoughts generated by those distractions down on cyber-paper. Maybe I want to see if anyone else feels likewise. Though not as bright, sharp or hard as a diamond, I am many faceted - esoteric in my literature, tending toward magic realism - pop-culture vulturish in my take on media - sentimental enough to cry at dog food commercials - and a lover of kitsch, like diners and other holes in the wall of life.

Abandoned blog

Held back by your tight
seventeen syllable leash,
I write elsewhere now.

San Diego

Shivering at the
airport. Colder than O’Hare.
Turn back, refund flight.

Driving cross country

West Coast starting line
pavement our road map we head
east back to our roots.

Friendship

Despite my darkest
moods you reach out, take my hand,
and lead me toward hope.

Depression

Bright summer days no
friend to sadness. Solace lies
in winter’s dark chill.

On cutting off long hair

Strands layered, length chopped,
I change, shed years, fears, regrets.
Why’d I wait so long?

Sufficient

Some days it’s enough:
an absent child’s return, a
dog’s rapt love, a kiss.

Nostalgia

She cried at the film’s
end, remembering how much
she’d once loved the book.

Afterwards

We discuss the soul,
ponder death’s postlude, then choose
the happy ending.

Upon reading the work of a great writer

Breathless, punched in the
gut seeing language evolve,
my own words falter.