GARY WEST

A native Coloradoan, Gary spends his free time writing fiction, poetry and reviews. He has seen his work appear in numerous publications both in print and online including, Tin Lustre Mobile, sidereality, Get Underground, Ink Magazine, Tribal Soul Kitchen and The Sidewalk's End. He edited The Dream People's taboo-inspired anthology, Things That Sing With Salty Wings, and is currently editing the upcoming December issue of The Dream People. He is also an associate editor at Raw Dog Screaming Press.

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LIFE ON THE STREETS

Bag Lady awakens from trembling sleep,
pigeon droppings bead her lined, once proud brow.

"It's been raining for over a week," the unemployed weatherman moans,
scrunching himself deeper and deeper into his battered cardboard box.

Gnawing on week-old chicken bones and moldy breadcrumbs,
the homeless gourmet dreams of freshly roasted pigeon, with dressing.

Sidewalk poet lies in a pool of his own vomit and
degradation, his muse too drunk to deliver the daily recitation.

Walking naked in the rain, a malnourished old woman mutters,
"dreams forgotten, nightmares revisited," over and over again.

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CLARENCE

Every morning, at precisely 6 a.m., Clarence awakens,
his mind a plethora of ill-defined emotion, confusion.

At the breakfast table, his usual two eggs and pot of coffee go cold,
the last of his yolk-soaked toast sits unchewed and forgotten on the floor.

Mid-afternoon finds Clarence asleep and twitching in his recliner,
his half-opened eyes move rapidly, tears run down his left cheek.

Clarence leaves the house for the first time in over a day,
too late he remembers where he is headed, becomes lost.

Exhausted, and nearing midnight, Clarence lays in his bed,
his heart pounding; another day played out, forgotten.