Night winds howled through slick canyon walls blowing sweet dreams from sleepless denizens to someplace beyond opium dens of Paris, dark Bangkok brothels, ashrams of India, underground jazz bars of Kerouac’s San Francisco . . . to a far away ancient land where grey eyed Athena lives with her sacred horned owl.
Author: Ed Lehner
Henderson Lake
These were taken on a trip up to Lake Henderson, a little lake at about 9500 ft. just north of Durango. It was a beautiful day with gathering clouds but no rain ever materialized.
My Illusion
I met my illusion today for coffee. The barista’s illusion was friends with my illusion. Our illusions introduced the barista and me. I bought my illusion a latte. She thanked me. We all talked over coffee catching up on past illusions. The barista took my hand. She told me she loved me. The clock on the wall melted into time. My head exploded in light. When I awoke my illusion was gone. The barista went with me to Barstow. We live alone in the desert.
The Woman in Black
The woman in black stood in her raven hair, red lips shining, her large black purse, black glasses and boots. The woman in black waited thirty seven minutes knowing not what for, never smiling, only staring. The woman in black stood silent by the dead flowers this day after the Hunter’s Moon. The woman in black apathetic to a passing world in clear blue noon sun passing between Uranus and time. The woman on black cried no lonely regretful tear or sad memoir drama no one would write. The woman in black walked into a black Venus night when the moon refused to shine, disappearing into silence. The woman in black pervades my mind troubled now forever, and I fell in love with her, and I disappeared with her into that black silence.
Writers
Writing isn’t a choice
It’s a part of you,
Tattooed into the DNA
Printed onto every organ
It’s a passion born to stay.
Writers lead two lives
One in reality,
The other on paper
You are the lead role
and the editor.
It’s an addiction
A drug you can’t forget,
Armed with words
Fantasies and hope,
Embedded into ink
From every breath
To every sunset.
It’s a beauty yet a curse
From the life you lead,
To the life you dream
The thoughts explode
From every seam.
It’s a parallel world
A portal of art,
Mirrored into your life
Scripted into your heart.
As the author
You’ll live & experience
Everything twice.
K