NOTE:  At Think in the Morning we are writing and posting a novel, The Frolic Cafe, in real time.  We will edit, add, and subtract from each post as we go so what you read at first may change over time.  This post, The Tigers of Wrath, is a short interlude in the...

 I don’t want to knowWhere we goWhen we die.I just wantTo be alive.To hear theEternal buzz of lifeBe it harmonyOr be it strife.To smell the rainWhether healthyOr in pain.To feel connectedTo the oneOr to the other.To taste the fallWinter springAnd the summer.To see the...

 The moon is happy.There is a willing tide.An owlResponding like grandfatherTo a change in the weatherCrosses the limits of reflectionMoving confidentlyThrough his world of dreams.From where I sitI can see the dustUpon those gathered dreams.It does not brush off...

 Risk failure to succeed. Risk looking stupid to be smart. Risk trying to acquire skills. Risk personal embarrassment to win praise. Risk making mistakes to avoid mistakes. Risk offending people to help people. Risk having your feelings hurt to be...

 Parrot in a halterTop the restaurant rooting parlorPicks and promenadesBefore the waiterWaiting, watchingAutomatic pumpPot, pan, plateIntravenous pyrogenic pulsing,Pounding, energeticStomach filling shakeHalter freeingBeing not afraid to takeFalterFeel,...

 Where the blood red huckleberry growsCatspaw flounders in theForest of the dwarfOgre roams and bellowsDown the green tunicOf the ManzanitaSalal and theHundred year old spruce. Where rivers one inch wideDisturb the pattern.Man grubGrit and drub dung. Where blasts...

 Manacled, distraughtThe Prisoner soughtRelief in the sea.He ate hungrily.The FishQueried, decried“Why do you eat the sea?”“Hunger,” the Prisoner replied.“Are you satisfied?”“No, too salty and thin.” The Prisoner’s arms withered.The iron cuffs dropped.Fins replaced...

 I remember poetryLike it used to be,Written by a handAny child could understand.Words that don’t playBut mean what they say. What there is aboutReflects the eye without.The inner eye doth seeLocked in memoryThe ancient imagesOn all the pages. Buried in the light of...

 Whispers of art speed me through the corridorsWhere ghosts recount ethereal truths and fascinations.Behind so many open doorsThe work of untold imaginations. Library, gallery, curtainThe Ship of TheseusPoe, Wilde, Fitzgerald, BergmanArt can be quite specious. Down...

[Mark Eanes Studio] There is no reasonUnless the reasonWe discoverIncrementally. In the dust,Out of it,Like everything livingWe leave our mark. We growToward the light,Toward the sun,Energy seeking the highest level. We are the only ones to questionThe pull of...

 Tennyson won’t mindIf I steal his words.So many others have done it already.But he won’t appreciateMy conclusion thatThere are no happy endings.Our inner demons ultimatelyBeat out the better angels of our natureOr so I think.Where does my pessimism come...