he comes from the land down under, this Lignum Draco.
and he travels.
and he takes amazing photographs.
he just finished an intriguing series from havana.
you have to see.
one click on the link below and you’ll be transported.
The temperature and humidity were rising as she drove farther south and just outside of Montgomery she stopped for gas at a convenience store, filled her tank, and went inside for a cold drink. When she came back out, she paid no attention to the car parked at the pump behind her.
“West Virginia, almost heaven.”
She turned to look. A black man, about her age, wearing a tattered ball cap. He was smiling,
She gave him a friendly look and unlocked her car.
“Your license plate.” He pointed to the back end of her car. “I’m from there.”
She stopped. She couldn’t resist.
“Where?”
“McDowell County.”
It was a West Virginia thing. If you’re from southern West Virginia, you’re identified with your county, not your town. Mingo County. Boone County. Lincoln County. McDowell was the poorest of the poor. She didn’t have to ask why he left. The decline of the coal industry affected everyone in southern West Virginia. As the jobs left, the drugs came in. Anybody with any hope for the future left. At least that’s the way she saw it.
“I’m from Charleston.”
copyright 2018, joseph e bird, from the novel, Heather Girl
sunday morning
by myself
and it’s cold
in the shade
of the tall buildings
as I unlock the doors
of the parish
a full hour before
the service begins
and I know where
she’ll be sitting
her hair falling
onto her shoulders
her brown eyes
and that perfect
practiced
professional
smile
because she is an
actor
like so many are
but she really is
and she is so
nice and friendly
and unpretentious
and
perfect
so perfect
and I can
do no more than
look her way
when she lingers
afterward
by the heavy doors
reading her bulletin
waiting
she has my heart
without knowing
but she is
perfect
and I am me
and the holy
and the profane
can not
be together
but I speak
and
she smiles
and I ask
her name
and I shake
her hand
and I tell her
my name
and I ask
where she’s
from because
everybody has
come to new york
from somewhere else
in search
of
something
cincinnati, she says
now I’m smiling
I’ve seen the
reds play there
I’ve skated
on the ice
at fountain square
and looked out
over the city
from the top
of carew tower
and I turn off the lights
and lock
the heavy doors
and she waits
in the cool
sunday shadows
and we walk
together
in the new york morning
copyright 2018, joseph e bird
“Although the fig tree shall not blossom,
neither shall fruit be in the vines;
the labor of the olive shall fail,
and the fields shall yield no meat;
the flock shall be cut off from the fold,
and there shall be no herd in the stalls.”
Do you hear me? Do you understand? There will be bad times, brother.
In my eighty-one years, you better believe I’ve had them.
Three years ago I lost Nita.
We’re supposed to get wiser as we get older, and I guess I have.
Even so, loss is hard and lonely.
Here’s what I know.
Listen, now.
“Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.
The Lord God is my strength and he will make my feet like hinds’ feet,
and he will make me walk upon mine high places.”
I didn’t always know that.
When you’re young, you think the fig will always bloom.
You think there will always be fruit on the tree and cattle in the stalls.
Now don’t be thick-headed. You know what I mean. Even if you’re young, you know what I’m saying.
But this isn’t my story. It’s Trevor’s.
Trevor for sure didn’t know.
To this day, I don’t know if he’s taken hold of the truth.
It’s not profitable for a man to express his faith in these days, and when you’re young like Trevor, you’re not inclined to go against everything the world says is right.
One has to be tried, tested, and hardened by fire.
That boy.
He’s a remarkable boy.
— Maxfield Martin
copyright 2016, joseph e bird, from the novel A Prayer for Rain
i’m a kid
riding my bike
near my house
and another kid
rides up and says
Hi.
I’m Chuck.
so many years ago.
i’m a teenager
riding in that
unbelievable green
GTO convertible
with Chuck driving
his father’s car
singing old Black Water.
so many years ago.
i’m in college
rooming with Chuck
and he’s up all night
recording music
on his reel-to-reel
driving me crazy
because he’s Chuck.
so many years ago.
i’m at Fat Daddy’s
Chuck is the DJ
and everyone
is dancing
and all the girls
want to dance
with Chuck.
so many years ago.
i’m standing
in the church
getting married
and Chuck is standing
with the others
and all the girls
smile at Chuck.
so many years ago.
so many years ago.
so many years ago.
i have moved
and live near the
very place on
the same street
that i rode my bike
and met Chuck.
so many years ago.
i am older
as is he
and we haven’t talked
in decades
and time
and distance
separated friends
so many years ago.
and then i hear
that Chuck
was in an accident
and his pain is great
and his recovery long
and it hurts
because he was my friend
so many years ago.
i am here
he is there
i’ll send him a note
i’ll say a prayer
and hope he will
dance again
as he did
so many years ago.
i write words
that seem shallow
and inadequate
to try to capture
the spirit that
he shared
with me
so many years ago.
so many years ago.
copyright 2018, joseph e bird
Heather Roth has little to look forward to.
The alien overlords have enslaved Earth’s population. Her two sons are working for the cyborg underground and her brother is the head of the Benevolent Alien Reconciliation Federation (BARF), which seeks to create a more peaceful world through mind control. On top of all of this, Heather has a really nasty cold that just won’t go away.
And then she learns that her father is being paroled from the penal colony on Jupiter’s moon, Europa. Which, as it turns out, is really not a big deal because he’s being assigned to work as a cook on the aircraft carrier Nimitz, which has been repurposed as a floating sheep farm.
Then Heather finds an old guitar, learns three chords and leads a musical revolution based on Nickleback songs. The aliens leave.
A story of mathematics and free verse, Heather Girl takes the reader on the ultimate emotional journey, culminating in a long nap.
How much can one woman take?
Heather Roth has little to look forward to. Her two sons, who have occupied most of her adult life, have grown and left her alone in the house in which she grew up. Her ex-husband, for whom she still has feelings despite his abusive nature, lives hundreds of miles away. And she’s being treated for Huntington’s, a disease that ravaged her mother, and for which she knows there is no cure.
Then the news she wasn’t expecting. Her father is being paroled from prison in Texas where he has been serving a sentence for the murder of his wife, Heather’s mother.
She’ll do anything to keep him out of her life, but when she is forced to take him into her home, she learns that the lives of her family weren’t what they seemed to be. A story of heartbreak and hope, Heather Girl, delivers compassion and love, even in the darkest hours.
“I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry.”
He reached across the table and put his hand on hers. She pulled away.
“I need to go.”
“Can’t you stay a little longer?”
There was no guile in his expression. His eyes had turned soft and pleading, his smile gentle and nervous. He was seventeen again, unsure of himself, captivated by the girl with the flaming red hair who could persuade him to do her bidding with her own teasing, alluring smile. He looked at her, a strand of his brown hair in front of his eyes, enticing her to brush it away, to touch his face, to feel his shoulders through his white t-shirt, tempting her to stay, to finish dinner, to find the bottle he had hidden behind the cereal in the cabinet above the refrigerator, to sip and smell the sweet liquor on his breath, and let the evening take them back in time to their wonderful and terrible lives of so many years ago, that would delight the flesh, break the heart, and leave them in ruin.
“I have to go.”
He stayed at the table as she got up and walked out. As she opened the front door, she heard him from the kitchen.
“Heather.”
She closed the door behind her.
Copyright 2018, joseph e bird, from the novel Heather Girl.
do you remember
the smell of spring
and the freshly cut grass
when it’s ok
to sit in the sun
for a few minutes
without guilt?
do you remember
driving with
the windows down
and walking without
a jacket
for a few days
without worry?
do you remember
the daffodils
and the beans
and the tomatoes
growing so freely
for a few weeks
without tending?
do you remember
the windows open
and the breezes flowing
and the skies so clear
in the night and the day
for a few months
without winter?
do you remember
to everything
there is a season
and a time
to every purpose
under the heaven
without apprehension?
tomorrow will come
soon enough
so find peace
in the rest
and gain strength
for the labor
that is tomorrow.
copyright 2018, joseph e bird
Joseph E Bird 