Tag Archives: love

Drift

Posted on May 16, 2014 by michaelstephendaigle

Continents drift. Clouds drift. Wood drifts on water. Daffodils drift on swirling pools, tossed by your hand from the dock, yellow eyes turning. We drift. Chasms open, hearts open and close. Each grinding leaves dust; the closing not quite complete. … Continue reading →

Posted in Fiction | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Baseball is back. Time to read “The Summer of the Homerun”

Posted on February 17, 2014 by michaelstephendaigle

Thirteen, a terrible age. A wonderful age. For Smitty,  a kid shortstop, it was the summer when he found out that everything he knew was going to change. This is the  story behind “The Summer of the Home Run,” a … Continue reading →

Posted in Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

The last butterfly and the full moon

Posted on January 17, 2014 by michaelstephendaigle

It is the brown season. Stalks of lilies hard, orange flowers long fallen; Cold shells where purple flowers dusted your yellow wings as you probed for nectar, gladly given. The angled sun brings light but not heat. These thoughts are sterile … Continue reading →

Posted in Fiction | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

A soldier’s letter home

Posted on November 9, 2013 by michaelstephendaigle

I smiled in my dream as I felt your tongue in my ear and awoke to find you naked on the bed, right arm propping up your head as your blonde hair draped across your face.  I reached over and  … Continue reading →

Posted in Fiction | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

I’m sorry you hate me

Posted on November 3, 2013 by michaelstephendaigle

I’m sorry that you hate me. It’s not that you’d admit you hate me, but you do. You scowl at me when I serve your coffee a moment too late because your time is more important than mine. Or don’t … Continue reading →

Posted in Commentary | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

Voyager

Posted on September 28, 2013 by michaelstephendaigle

This is why we love. To cast the sounds and breath of us afar, these parts of us we barely know; these gadgets that spring from our creation, set free by some sneak attack of you; exploring, reaching, searching, homing … Continue reading →

Posted in Fiction | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

When all the world is liquid — with sound

Posted on August 26, 2013 by michaelstephendaigle

https://soundcloud.com/diane-havens/when-all-the-world-is-liquid When all the world was stone, we clung together on solid cliffs, anchored in hearts, feelings like isthmuses and islands; places to dance. When all the world was air,  the sound  and scent of you floated past walls and … Continue reading →

Posted in Fiction | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

The season forgives

Posted on March 21, 2013 by michaelstephendaigle

It is the smallest things that bring redemption. The tiny blue flowers have pushed through the cold soil to grab the gleam of sunlight, a lure of warmth that turns them toward life; they have been here  before, one, then … Continue reading →

Posted in Fiction | Tagged , , | 2 Comments