block

there was a time

when I was mired

not

with false starts

hopes burned hot and fast

to ash

but

with

a carpal cramp

born of an overflowing pen

not today

©2021 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved

fib

 small

lie

with no

clear malice

at least by intent

that's how my mom would describe it

she was always right

and pretty

like

you

© 2021 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved

chasm

what exactly is it
when each action each embrace
whether words or something deeper
formed within the tactile space

is delayed by second guessing
calculation out of fear
there'll be no reciprocation
that the end is so damn near

what exactly is it
love
or something less sincere

© 2021 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved

Inspired by Kris Sasa's What's This Love?

corporate triptych

 I

dearly desired
corporate transparency
simple elegance

II

routinely touted

corporate transparency

Goldberg elegance

III

typically seen

corporate intransigence

eternal collapse

© 2021 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved

blindspots

pizza

coffee

ice cream

universal constants

hinge pins aligning an infinity of diversities

almost

for me pineapple goes with the third

decidedly NOT the first

though I won't turn it away (no bad pizza)

cream only in the second

except for the rare molasses dalliance

I do like a little creole now and again

the third

well

erotica is in the same ballpark

partial to coffee

chocolate

mint

cookie dough

ginger

even neopolitan will do

beyond these preferences

blindspots I might be willing to explore

come along

© 2021 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved

flight deck

the forge and foundry of my literary craft where the words ignite with the help of family breaking bonds of gravity © 2020 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved

brewing

past the perc-a-burp

heralding near readiness to pour

the morning's first assault on sentience

coffee maker's soundscape takes a turn

toward understatement

scaling back as if to soothe the re-emergence

of gentility

with decrescendo susurrus

between the quietudes

reminiscent of the surf intruding on a nap

© 2020 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved