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I remember mad strong words out of a teenager, fresh from the shower without a blouse: First! He will be my age, period! He will be the first to walk me to my room as my fear crashes to earth, final, considered.
And I will be the first to milk the w
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How long has this been going on? the admitting nurse asks.
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He wasn’t there for the beginning or the end. In the beginning, he was still a wild thing. Nothing more than a voice in the chorus of the Dark Continent, back when it was a thing of terrible beauty and attracted people like the old man; people who breathe
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“C'mon Billy, don't be s-s-s-s-scared.' said the voice coming from under the bed. Billy looked over the side and saw a pale white, bony right hand with it's forefinger beckoning him protruding out from below. The nails were yellowed and cracked. And long. Very, very…
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It started with crows. I'd walk the switchback trail to the top of the park with its outlook of the city and if I didn't see any crows I'd whistle and they'd come swarming from everywhere. I'd give the peanuts a toss and the crows would caw their heads off and peck at…
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Picking up a perfect stranger—perfect meaning dead, in this case—and shaping him into the man you’d want him to be is not so easy.
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…she smelled of sunflowers.
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Hi de ho, and hey, hey, hey; The farmer's daughter is made of hay. I went to touch her but she blew away, And noo ma hert is nae langer gay. Hi de hoo, and how do you do? The farmer's wife has a cold up her flue, And takes me away…
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The bad moods crash the door down like an overzealous SWAT team and wreck the furniture. The good moods arrive unannounced.
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“I’ve read your blog recently,” my friend told me over waffles and cold potato salad at 10PM, “and something strange is going on in there.”
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Held tight during the week, clouds now cast off their burden, flinging down a drag-net of sleet.
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No preview available due to the brevity of the piece. In fact, this comment itself is longer than the piece.
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Portions of my heart and bones
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I will go to work in the morning and no one will stop me.
I wish someone would stop me.
I don’t know if my car will start in this cold.
But if it does (it always does), I am going to drive to work.
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For the camera
she smiles
otherwise not
and
only when she is
standing beside him
But for the camera?
for the crowd
for posterity
yes
For their children
for the future?
yes, again yes
a thousand times
until her face
be
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With spring rain
And greening buds
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Every year I make New Year's resolutions and every year I break them. So this year, I'm trying something different -- resolutions for other people. Hey world -- here are the changes I'd like to see YOU make in 2014(1) Cell phone owners: No more blathering on your cell in…
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IA prophetic mile from the towering hill,tombs of ages lie.I open my eyes; I am stillin hieroglyph dreams of histories,nearby moans the sea, cold as usual, consecrated.Something created, destroyed,then in shadow, remade. The shore spouts forthold silence,…
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The trash is full. Again. I open the bathroom trash—because the diaper genie is stuffed—but there’s no room. I try the kitchen next. The lid swings open, catapulting carrot shavings onto the floor. I lay the diaper on the counter for later.
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I went to a drum circle next night under the full moon in May, scotch broom and lilacs blooming. One does not inhale such aphrodisiacs without losing one’s balance. There were children of druids and pagans and stregas from lands over the sea, lands beyo
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When Igor stepped inside the capsule, he had two thoughts: the cramped tin can would either become his victory chariot, or his funeral casket.
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The pieces of bread dipped us humans in cheese,
the cheese made by cows from our milk.
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In distant climes ’cross landlocked plains,
where history digs still-shallow roots,
From masonry a statue looms
And in her arms gay pigeons roost.
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The old man sat in the run-down shack, nursing his lobol-weed tea, and cursing the bitter cold wind outside.
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This country needs a self-administered memoir veracity exam, like a home pregnancy test, that could weed out made-up memoirs before they hit the bookstores.
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Two titans move
opposite one another
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Does God feel the same way /
whenever you practice your indifference toward me
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It’s too early in the morning to play the glockenspiel. I’ll just sit here and knit this tiger.
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—Michiko, are you allergic to cats?
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the vigilance that informs a parent's every hour had momentarily lapsed
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