http://slow.writerscafe.org/Treblatsirc The original writings of author Blotter en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776041552 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I take refugein the simple things;whatever needs doingand allows me a momentof solace.I like to pick up the dog s**t,with the plastic scooper.I wander the back-yardlike a desperate mine sweeperand search for turds.Some have hardenedwhile others seem fresh, moist…I have become eruditeand jealo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1197156/ sorry, the title follows the piece too well not to do.... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1196092/ Title sums it up. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1195624/ The homeless guy and Iboth know the rhythm of the lightsand cross the street in unisonbefore the sign can change. He knows far better, though,the truth of the city’s nuance.He will pull the streets upon himself to sleepwhile I must suffer with a mere blanket. His clothes match the na.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1194548/ I wanted to lose my fear of“the new”But that would be something“new”and that would not do.Innovation exciteswhen it is presentedas“option”but creates panicwhen it becomes“required”If I can find a way for all of“the new”to be broadcast unto .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1192370/ What is fatherhood?It is as ifI have been pushed into a darkened roomurged on by my wife’s voice as I stumble into walls, furnishings and fixtures. With the baby’s arrival she received a flashlight that illuminates for her alone. But eyes do adjust, and in the new gloaming I see sha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1191905/ In my arms,crying and angry,the spit formingon his up-turned lip.This helpless babywho has absolute reignover both my heartand my soul.Happiness and calmare all I desirefor both himand myself.He is in tirade,his frustration manifest in tears,and I couldn’t love himany morethan I do now. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1190789/ To those who readI say a mumbled, “thank you”and awkwardly look away.Perhaps we will share a beerin a disquiet momentas the sun moves outso night can consume our souls,and we can beginto talk. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1188827/ In our pine tree I have seenthe crows tending to their nest.They have kept busy,and to themselves.This morning they attacked the squirrels(who have heretofore had equal access to the tree)and drove them to the ground.I took out the recycle canto add it to our big-blue-binand the crows became irate.I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1188109/ I have a new bottle of beer, just opened,and it is working for me,when I look at my ankle(where my calf descends to meet it)and I am surprised.am a towering mass of flesh,built of too many beersand burgers… chips… garbage….It all comes down to this:an ankle no wider than a soup .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1185318/ You can,I can,we can…we all are in….Conjugation: a perception of our societal will.We all write the value of our being;a symposium of what we (or you, or I, or us) may be….The lost promise of the simpler-sense-of-selfthat we carry from our youth:this lie we burden our collective.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1184507/ I gave you some of my words(or told you they were there for you to see)and asked that you measure themand provide for me a scale or value….The silence choked all reason from meand left my sense of our friendshiplying bereft and wounded.I pity myself for being so easily hurt,despite my mantrat.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1183361/ Time pursues me,like a lonely friendor a desperate lover.I eschew the advancesand shrink back at each approach…I am reluctant.Time comes in for a hug,I step aside and opt for the hand-shake,but still feel the cool gripof its embrace.I am busy avoiding its gaze,like a party guest, avoiding the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1182721/ In each simple acta communal experience lies.We create the myth of our independencewhile riding on the backs of otherswhom we decry as parasites.I forgo the honor of caring(and with that the burden of needing to acknowledge my part).I am left with the guiltof knowing that I too am partof the dirty t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1181184/ I step out of the showerand have been renewed.The simple act of running water across the bodyand rubbing a lump of animal fats and alkalineacross my skinhas left me feelinglike I were newand alive again.I have broken the water,destroying its surface tensionsand battering the bondsof the filth that a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1181182/ A homeless man on the street,His hair rich and heavy, swept back away from his broad forehead.He looks exactly like James Brown in the later years.I am briefly touched, and feel the need for outreach.He bows to the pavement, dropping to one knee:I am suddenly overcome by the image of an assistant,or.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1180938/ Glancing out a car windowthe trees nearest to me blur bywhile those in the distance barely moveand those on the horizon seem like the stars:fixed in perpetuity.So it is with memories,the days of present recollectionseem to be flying past in a hazeof color and motion.Those memories with time-on-their.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1178499/ On the warm nights the neighborhood becomes a new place,like the spirit of a friendly bar’or a communal gathering space.I had wandered over to my neighbors side of the streetand spoke the nonsense of acquaintancesbound together by the accidentof residency.I had left the garden gate openand I b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1177777/ The stapler couldn’t make it. The sheets were too many (each one a measure of my day) and it said,“Not today.” I envy it. It was built to be beaten on the head, and bind sheets and today it decided,“No.” I have no such luxury. I am flesh and blood and meant to.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1176506/ So the sun is rising, as I make my way to work,and the lens of haze makes the road appear filteredand uniform.I hate it:this beauty buried in commonality.It should be dismal, and hideous.After-all;it is the roadthat greats every morningof every dayof this tired retinuethat has becomea routineon the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1175989/ I see them in their hard-hats, safety vests, heavy boots (caked with the grime of work), and I am dressed as they are. My heavy work-shirt, my steel-toed shoes, my gloves (which have failed my roughened hands). It is a form of work that trades our bodies for a paycheck and security. I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1173505/ Glittering flecks of sunlight(caught like dazzling rainbows in action)arc through the semi-urban skynear sunset.Man-made rain launched over-head,ready to wetour store-bought plants;a gardeners charade.My infant son laughsat the chatter of the wind-chime,seeming to sing a songthe false-rain keeps rhy.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1172334/ I dug around in the soil for awhile,pulling the weeds(I don't know why, they grow so well)and packing dirt into my knees. Then I put down the new dirt(because the old dirt was, well... old).The new dirt was blackand the old dirt was pale. Together they made a dismalswirl of soilsthat made .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1169984/ May 1st, 2013 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1168167/ Grocery store, stranger, awkward posture. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1165764/ I was three feet from my front door,my key pinched between my thumband index finger.I heard my name, carried accross the street,"Chris!"I sighed, feeling trapped."What?" I shouted over my sholder.I had nearly made it, five more secondsand I would have disappeared into the coolquiet of my front room... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1163561/ A vast silence permeateswhere I was promised dialogue.  I look, I wait...... just silence. Others seem to playin the language of prose;there is banter, give-and take. I alone sit sulking. My deodorant:top-of-the-line. My breath:fresh as the proverbial daisy. My attitude.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1161973/ Find the reticle. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1160807/ A figure on the horizon, its back turned... you bekon to it, and it beckons to some distant, unseen person too. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1158619/ By reading this you may affect an effect... or something. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1158345/ I remember the words of the generations that preceded me,and my utter devotionto their form. As I took to writingI worked to distance myselffrom the words of contemporaries. I struggled to follow the greats,while eluding the grasp of the othersseeking the same and felt smug in compari.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1157047/ It got its name before it existed,and it was the biggest, best and brightest of them all. The other folk on the block were jealous because this was the "epic" and "most" of all of them. The device was up and running before they plugged it in(the guys from the service who came with thing).&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1154837/ EarningsWhy we do it                       we don't know.We do it, still;                   &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1154496/ You purple temptress,                I love you.Sometimes you are orange... othertimes red.   I have loved one yousince I had strength enough  to wring your silly neck.  You have never been .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1153145/ My shadow on the sidewalk     (sunset is very close)collides with the kneeling figure  of an Asian woman planting flowersnear the edge of her yard. I am twenty feet away but I have already enveloped herin a manner too familiarfor we strangers. She should .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1151094/ Work Feeds me (in that it pays so that I may eat)Work eats me (in that it is slowly consuming my soul). Work has taken my heart,in exchange for the paythat leads to a lifewhich requires work. I am dead insidewhile I stagger through the day.I am dying insidewhile I stagger th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1149283/ What she drank        (and why she drank it)  was both beyond me,            and outside my concern;as I only cared               that .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1149274/ (a poem) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1146712/ Urine Sample #300013A Roger T. Everyman:A normal type guyholding a paper sackcontaining a jar,(filled with his pee)warm on his lap,riding the buson his way to work.His urine will tell them(for they all want to know):that he smokes too much,drinks too muchand needs to l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1142945/ Vacillation  A blank Page A challenge  A giftUnmetUnheededUnheard Unloved:   This sheet; Discarded http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1142935/ These people,(their petty little vignettes)they sicken me... I don’t know their story,But I know their lines,too goddamn well. They have the same look,each one of them.They want something… “What?” I see them, I hear them…and I know; the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1142932/ from the pages of a note-book, 12-95 http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1142930/ found in the margins of a spiral note-book from my college era (1996) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1142927/ Affairs   The folks at the V.A. gave me an idea.   I have decided tokeep it.  It isn't worth toomuch,       it seemswell-worn,but I'm keeping it anyway. They took all of my oth.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1142925/ Act Like You Care      I smile awkwardly,      hang out in the corner, or something. Wishing the floorwould eat me alive,      the room would reveal a n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1142922/ A Gulf Between   We shedour bloodfor the sakeof a worldwe helped ruinand to whichwe gave eagercause to hate us. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1142919/ Yard work is for losers. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1141961/ Recess Stumbling and tripping,hitting your head on a park bench,running your skin across a rusty nail,drawing your own sacred blood. Blinding pain; can't stand up.Lie and hold your skull,get up and go on. This is what it's always been about,Since we were kids o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1141950/ Purple dog.A spot andCarpet monger.Could Be aCaged Beast   or Beggar,       But a dog,More or less. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1141946/ Caught a daisy on my arm: it smelled just like it should, sweet and quite fragrant...having grown up now.　　  It'll never be more than a flower, never hold its own. In a water filled vase, it's just an attraction　  Took the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Treblatsirc/1140854/