Trina Woke From a Dream

Teagan Geneviene and I collaborated on a Trina story. Teagan sent visual prompts by Michael Whelan and we wrote lines based on the images.

I think Teagan may post the story to her blog. If she does, her version
may be different.

Trina Woke from a dream

Illustration of a victorian girl with fanciful moths
Trina woke from a dream

The Shadow Boy was coming to visit while she languished above a
labyrinth of verdant shrubs.

The Shadow Boy was intrigued when he saw a blond child with a bow
and arrow levitating outside the window of the monorail.

Was the blond child looking for his shadow? Could he catch it with his arrow?

The shadow boy examined the child for clues.

‘He’ had pixie ears and breasts.

This was not his boy.

Trina waved at the shadow boy and motioned for him to join her.

The boy hesitated. Trina wondered why: perhaps because the sun was going down.

The Shadow Boy shouldn’t be afraid of the dark, besides there’s a streetlight.

Trina decided it made no difference.

She still had Madison, but wait, where had Madison got to?

She was chasing a cluster of moths drawn to streetlight.

Madison out chasing moths? This was out of character.

“What’s wrong with you?” Trina asked.

“Nothing!” Madison scowled.

‘You’re chasing moths.”

“ They’re chasing me. Look at these holes!”

And it was true; Madison was full of holes.

(c) Rob Goldstein and Teagan R. Geneviene

 

 

 

Poetry: That Muggy August Night

That muggy August
night we waited for
a stranger:

a new boyfriend who
didn’t show.

Momma swore an
threw a stone:

it bounced and
sparked before it
cracked on the
concrete porch–

An momma cried
An momma slapped
An momma bit
An momma snapped–

all because
of that boyfriend
who didn’t show.

(c) Rob Goldstein 1983-2019

 

 

 

Poetry: Honeysuckle and Easter

A shimmering butterfly
circles the honeysuckle
in the backyard where
sunflowers grow a
foot tall, by daddy’s
garage where doo-wop
streams from the radio
this hot Passover Day

slurping Kool-Aid and
munching matzah
in my Superman
clubhouse

wishing my Sister
would go away.

(c) Rob Goldstein 1984-2019
“It’s Superman” Rob Goldstein 2019

#MondayMotivation: American

A large part of history is replete with the struggle for human rights, an eternal struggle in which final victory can never be won. But to tire in that struggle would mean the ruin of society. Albert Einstein, 1955

 

Love me baby, love me for who I am
Fallen angels singing, “clap your hands”
Don’t try to take my country, I will defend my land
I’m not crazy, baby, naw
I’m American

Happy Monday!

 

#WordlessWednesday: Regrets

 

 

It’s a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we’re on the way to there
Why not share 

‘Regrets’ (c) Rob Goldstein 2018

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#WordlessWednesday

Blood and Saliva

Eros smiles seductively

and takes the seat next
to mine.

He caresses my thigh

and whispers a filthy

secret: to know him

is telling

in a thousand

unspeakable

ways.

 

(c) Rob Goldstein November 5, 1985