Joe Swanson

“My Move, Our Move” by Joe Swanson

    It seemed like the end of my world when they first mentioned the necessity of leaving. I understand, it’s just that when you’ve spent your entire life in a place, with people you know, starting over is beginning a life I am not prepared for.     My environment has dictated who I am, what I do, what my plans are; it makes decisions for me. I am not different from others that are forced to leave, what we lose may appear to be different, but our loss is the same.     &nb...

1 like 0 comments 0

Read story

“Bogu?” by Joe Swanson

     Are You there Bogu…?    I know I’ve asked before, but this time I’d appreciate an answer. Are You there Bogu?     All of Your signs I admit are wrapped in a sense of irony, if I understand then correctly, but what I need now is direction.     It is not that I’m at a fork in the road, I’m way past that. Forks are fine for Irish poets, or those who live on Walden Pond, but I’m neither. I just got off a boat, which was supposed to be my...

0 likes 0 comments 0

Read story

“Potato...Po-ta-to” by Joe Swanson

    Love has an affect on people, it allows them dismiss the obvious while pondering the impossible, or perhaps just the unlikely. The understanding, or illusions of reality necessary to circumvent conflict are often underestimated, as purveyors of faith have a unique ability to lie to themselves so believably, it is impossible to question their sincerity, only their ability to reason.    “It says, right here…look, God created the heavens and earth and on the…”    “You do reali...

0 likes 0 comments 0

Read story

“Happenstance, or Evolution?” by Joe Swanson

    You know how it is when you feel yourself growing out of something; like when you were a kid and your pants seemed to have shrunk when you weren’t looking. That’s how I been feeling of late. Can’t figure out if it’s because I’m growing out of something, or into it.    It’s not the first time I’ve had to wrestle with myself over this issue. The problem is, In my dreams, I always wake up or change the subject before I find an answer. It is not like what’s right or wrong, good or b...

0 likes 0 comments 0

Read story

“The Congregation” by Joe Swanson

    “Brothers and Sisters, Sisters and Brothers,” his anticipated greeting to the assembled. The cadence, the projectory, now a drone that had been dampened by age. He was tired, he was bored, a lifetime of promising hope.  He awoke every morning for the past several years feeling he had failed to deliver on the promises he expected himself to deliver.      “We are gathered here today during this time of renewal, Spring, Easter, rebirth, rejuvenation, anticipation…” and then ev...

2 likes 0 comments 0

Read story

“The Drawing Room ” by Joe Swanson

    “Would anyone care to talk about your experience on Goat Island?     Don’t everyone volunteer at once. We discussed this before we went. You were to sketch, scribble, whatever way you chose, depending upon talent that you possess, to describe, record, the impact the environment of the island had on you. Anyone like to step up and show us what you experienced?”     As straightforward as the requested assignment was, they all espoused a similar reluctant response.&n...

1 like 0 comments 0

Read story

“Twilight” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #131

    The light was not good. It never is in late afternoon before the street lamps come on, and the darkness has exposed its intention.  The last remnants of the day left to debate their departure.      I sit on a bench that overlooks the pond. The sunset, when one is realized, snared by the pool, divided into prisms of promise, and sent into the darkness, escape. It was on just such an evening that I noticed him, her, it, for the first time. Normally people avoid the park ...

13 likes 0 comments 0

Read story

“Ducks in a Row” by Joe Swanson

    Being in a crowd gives one a sense of anonymity, or the possibility of one. Hiding in plain sight is usually successful unless someone is looking for you, or circumstance shines that light on you. It was what happened that day. I cannot say I was hiding, or that she was looking for me, but either way, the light did shine on me.     Like most people trapped by circumstance, crowds, trains, buses, I pull my shell around me, keep my eyes occupied with the character of the floor, and for...

1 like 0 comments 0

Read story

“Nameless” by Joe Swanson

   “Hey, You!”     “Who… Me?”     “Who’d you think I was talking to. See anyone else around?”     “You want to see me around? What does that mean?”     “What are you talking about? Are you hard of hearing?”     This exchange went on for quite some time. I sat under a tree by the bus stop waiting to see if an altercation would ensue. Escalation, because of uncertainty, has become a new normal that we have...

3 likes 0 comments 0

Read story

“Innocuity Takes Many Forms” by Joe Swanson

     “You remember that Vonnegut book about making everyone equal, so as not to make anyone feel inferior? Had nothing to do with talent or ones inclination to work hard to achieve whatever one believed to be your calling. It had to do with digressing, not progressing.     Do you realize if we were all the same, how boring life and those in the parade would be? And that is what this new edict is really all about, an effort to distill the political and social split between peopl...

2 likes 0 comments 0

Read story

“Lou” by Joe Swanson

    “Look at this! Someone must have lost a bag of clothes or just got tired of haulin them around. Clothes all over the street. Look here! A shirt with a name printed on the inside of the collar, Lou. People still write their names on their clothes?  Why? Someone runnin around stealin clothes off the line or out of your closet when you ain’t lookin? Do you put your name on things? Whatcha think, someone goin to find something with the name Abe on it and know who Abe is? Man, I...

2 likes 0 comments 0

Read story

“What?” by Joe Swanson

“What do you do for a living?” The question that makes you question who you are, were, want to be? It is not that I’m embarrassed by what I do, although I am. Not so much embarrassed really, as ashamed. Not because of what I do, but because of I’ve been told I am capable of doing better. I went to one of those job fair events where businesses attempt to recruit people who are congruent with their mission. Their mission depends on what their policy concerning what performance and corporate attitude imbues. Althou...

2 likes 0 comments 0

Read story

“Dreams End” by Joe Swanson

I don’t know how it happened. Providence, luck, fate, I still can’t make sense of it, and yet here I am, in charge of dreams.  I had assumed no one wanted the job. Too many dreams, like wishes, that were made upon a star, and just couldn’t be granted. But who says. You know how people get when they don’t really want someone to get something because they can’t have it themselves. Selfish it seems to me. There are plenty of dreams to go around. Not that I envy anyone’s dreams, or believe I deserve something t...

2 likes 0 comments 0

Read story

“Whom?” by Joe Swanson

“To whom it may concern.” I had to admit I hadn’t expected such an abrupt beginning to a typical Monday, but then things have been going downhill since the meteor predicted to hit the coast missed us entirely, and ended up hitting the former Soviet Union, nearly causing WWIII.  Something about the unforeseen that because of its distractive tendency places abnormally awkward images in your mind. I once had a dream about the first chimpanzee sent into space. I remember it like it was yesterday, and yet it was over sixty years ag...

2 likes 0 comments 0

Read story

“Sounds Good” by Joe Swanson

   James Piquet roamed the basement passages of the building. The silence, although one reason management found it difficult to keep a maintenance professional employed, was not the only reason.    Urban legend had christened the Callahan Building, “haunted.” Most dismissed the unseemly sounds as the result of antiquated pipes and echo- chambered hall ways. James Piquet was neither disturbed nor enlightened by the sounds, as he was deaf. James found being deaf a most positive altern...

3 likes 1 comment 1

Read story