January 2024
Eric Beidel
ericbeidel81@gmail.com
Bio Note: I have written hundreds of poems, stories, and essays I've kept private until now. I've worked as a reporter, night janitor, editor-for-hire, speechwriter, and bureaucrat. I still use pencils and the hand-me-down typewriter I got when I was 12. A native Midwesterner, I now live in the shadow of the Santa Catalina Mountains in Tucson, Arizona, where I watch baseball and sunsets.

Monterey
A storm approaches, I walk to the sea. Is it rain or spindrift that pelts my face? The clouds have turned around, or is it me? Either way this day is my saving grace. The din of last night’s loaded street gives way To an early morning escape from all That draws a fine line between every day, Like the difference here between spring and fall. Standing before a million shades of blue, I watch the foam ride the waves to the shore. The ocean holds more than our false and true, And carries forth all mystery and lore. Questions arise as sure as answers cease. Everything rages, and I am at peace.

Colors
I like the look of a red barn on a green hill. I like the look of a black woman against a blue sky. I like the look of indigo draping the desert floor. I like all these colors and more.
©2024 Eric Beidel
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