Archives

by Rob Krabbe 1998 The rose, soft and sweet, it’s silk pedals crest, the wings of my flight from the nest, dark and fallow. The flight, disguised as freedom. the end of my dreams, the sands fall to sand though the light seems far from coming. The sand, brooding, smothers the tailings of life, the [...]

© 2012 Rob Krabbe There is still time. I look into her face, my eyes drill deep. I’m burning, and blurry; tired and weary, and it’s an endless road. Oh yes though, I travel the path, blinking away the sand and fire to go where I have to go. One by one, by one, the [...]

His spitting sounded like “thud” without the “d.” Boots scraping on the concrete. His heels leather but hard as if they were steel plated. Whip crack, spit, scrape, scrape, scrape; whip crack, spit, scrape, scrape, scrape. On infinitum. From distant to passing by, his wind flapped coat tails like a flag trailing him. A black [...]

It spins, now, like a pendant from a silver chain. Time is a dangerous lover. “Watch the face of the disc, and imagine it never moves,” says the spirit of time passing, “allow yourself to relax . . . relax . . . become one with me.” It goes faster and faster now, spinning my life [...]

Margins.  Breathing; extra deep breath. Waiting; nothing. Three seconds without a single thought. Margins.   Margins. Walking, stop in my tracks, frozen in time. That moment past a moment of mine. Mental defibrillation; back to the grind. Margins.   Margins. Prayer; only the God of gods, knows. When it all goes, it goes. Time . [...]