I listen to my son on the piano. His fingers are light and fluid in airy play like the raindrops in soft fall. He uses the pedals and the sound changes like thunder in the depths of cloud. I sit outside and watch rain fall under cover of porch stoop, rare of lighting’s flash that […]
All Posts By: Byron McCoy
Short Story
LYRIC SAY
They sat on patio and spoke of songs and music as evening ceded place to night, bright of the sun giving way to porchlight bulbs in stranded hang and stars in the cosmic depths. Song played that they knew, and of it he spoke, “I love sometimes how a whole song builds and […]
Short Story
LOVE SONG’S SING
In hide of home amongst the trees, they stayed in their naked free and loved when want of intimate’s passion returned. Again in kitchen—over counter and open floor; upon velour of lounge beside the hearth; and in porch sit under blanket-wrap—she in straddle of his lap; interlock of hands in hold and resting […]
Short Story
IN THE LIGHT
Weekend arrived. Again, they went in leave of city for farm and hidden home within the trees. Late of spring showed sign in give to summer-change. Full leaf of the trees in stands as they passed, in roll of hills, river bottoms, and patterned lines of fence rowed fields. Pastures showed green; […]
Journal Pages
DIVOTS AND DEAD SPOTS
There are divots and dead spots on our front lawn. One set is at sixty feet from wooden mound. Another at a distance I do not know, but my youngest son does. I carry homeplate forward from its mark at sixty feet until he tells me to stop, the distance of his Little League, […]
Quick Thought
MURDER OF THE MYSTICS
What if all the modern mystics are medicated and that’s why we don’t hear God? What if, rather than deign as divine, we define as disorder, murdering our mediums for messagings from God? Then, as is the nature of evil, a good and truth is turned on its head. Transcendence, Revelation, […]
Short Story
SPIRIT-SPELL
In yellow-eve and room of walls in romance-hue, she mixed spirit-spell of Alchemy and bitters hidden and masked in spice of cloves and sweet of fruits. Last act of cast, she drew straw from place of table rest in stir of potion and completing of the spell: distinct and separate of darkness and […]
Journal Pages
MULBERRIES
The mulberries are starting set on the trees. It’s a little thing of little importance but means a little something to me. Last year, my youngest son spoke to me of his adventure with a friend who lives in the country and how they picked and ate them the branches. It was his favorite part […]