Wednesday, May 4, 2016



Every night I see a light off in the distance, a remnant of something or a foretelling of a thing about to be. The truth is the only thing that changes perceptions of this light is whether I wear my glasses outside or not. Occasionally in the silence when it is just me and this light I fart. It sounds like a ship’s horn in the silence but never loud enough to set off alarms; though I seem to sound thunderous.

The light doesn’t laugh or even look like it’s holding back a smile. No room for sophomoric humor in the night, I get it. The night is supposed to be mostly silent. A time of rehashing the day past and making plans for the one about to break. I rarely consider the day past because my normal is to not fuck anyone or thing over and I never make a plan for the day after dawn—I am not steady, like the light.

Coming on when told, going off when told. I used to be like this light, all lights in fact but now I am more like the fart, loud but soon drifting away, my contribution to global warming and the night. I should show more restraint though, one day there is a possibility I will blow the light out—another longtime acquaintance destroyed without word.

© M Durfee

Monday, May 2, 2016



After the chaotic sights and sounds of the day
infused with light from a sun trying to shine
I find the night,
her silences and noises
to be an adventure erotic.
The rubber of the occasional tire
rolling slowly over the wet pavement,
plants and flowers with just enough color
dimly seen pulse their own magic touch
to the heavy breath of my lover,
even the bark of a dog thrills me,
strokes me to a place of comfort and rest.

I do not wonder in the lateness of the hour what is going on behind the closed doors and darkened windows of them near me, I do not care. I see enough of people during the day that is pornography.

It is the night’s silence
broken by slight sounds
that make me feel life, alive.
Laying down with my dark lover
even after all these years
is as ever a spectacular thrill
as she comes for me,
touches me in return,
gives to me all that I wish
every desire to take from her
I give in return anything she asks.
Our silence is our lovers bed.

© M Durfee