My Forecast

by John Grey Snow falls on snow.  And, in between,  I trudge.    Yes it’s beautiful  but it chills my bones.  It decorates.  It beautifies.  But my fingers freeze  despite my gloves.    I am on my way  to a place   that will offer me  radiance and discomfort  in equal abundance.    The weather forecaster   got… Continue reading My Forecast

The Small World

by John Grey It’s blanched white tunnels that tube-worms dig, swirling around in complex patterns like the trail of a child’s finger in cake frosting. Or the emerald gleam of glowworms. Or tiny scarlet and blue-jeweled crabs. The world offers small as much as it does large. A lizard stares up at me from beneath… Continue reading The Small World

In My New England Home

By John Grey Damn. I’d have to really hate myself to believe she’s never coming back to me. Look in the mirror and throw up. Smash in my skull with a hammer. But I’m merely waiting here, as stoic as Zeno of Citium.   So she left without a word. And I find nothing to console myself… Continue reading In My New England Home