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Excerpts from 'Dispatches from the Front: My Life in NE Portland—diary by JENA RACHEL ROCKWELL (year 08)'

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I'm getting self-righteous here, Dear Reader . . . [hey! wait a second! this is my diary! what are you doing, looking at it, dude! Hit the road! Scram! Vamoose!]

Natchez Shrapnel

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I was like a bullet shot from a university tower

TBT

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Back then we used to dance slowly to Sam Cooke's “You Send Me” on your parquet floors, whispering about planting our vegetable garden, planning to seed the lawn with centipede grass, promising to count all the red cars that came down the street.

Every Step, and There Are Lots

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Her plastic shopping bag brushes your leg. You look into it and all you see is a 2 liter of Coke, a bag of Lay’s potato chips and a package of Oreos. It’s so oddly touching, so purely American, that your heart breaks a little bit. You want to hug t

Parajanov Contra Zizek (oder selbst proclaimed Brechtian Beast Z vs aSublime moving picture for magnitude of efficacy.)

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People act, today, as if there were no such thing as Death - i.e. they "psychotically" reify the notion that we "live on" in our work or more pointedly/poignantly in our offspring and in society qua Creation. This tendency was half present in the old Greeks - the …

Invisible Vestibules

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Sometimes the wind comes across the fields and you would swear that it can be known. Going along the one lane there I look out and see those vast spaces and then refocus on to closer on. Swinging the truck into a side road that goes far and far and then left, I pull into…

Tattooed Thumb

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A tattoo of a river steamboat, one you dreamed up in your sleep and drew yourself is anchored around your nail bed on your thumb. I paint my nails with regatta sails. The toxic fumes sting my nose. You say you're bored and take out a needle filling it with ink. I watch as…

Begonia {part eight}

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Like a scroll spinning swiftly before his eyes, he deduced that the tracks around him could have been left by nothing but a dragon. “Father God, protect her,” he said as the gravity of Isabella’s situation hit him.

Song: Nope, music by Tim Young, lyrics by Jerry Ratch

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paste into browser: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsSKsjOTCFU&feature=em-upload_owner

Neural Tones

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--"Look at us," she murmurs. "Tristan and Isolde without the adultery." --"Well, you can't have everything." --"No? I heard otherwise."

Man On The Run

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Don't slow down, he said, time grows shorter every minute. So you pretended to stay young or cheated on your marriage or forgot to watch your children growing up, and still never found someone who could understand you.

Face to Face

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The face had become a chilling death mask.

Upwards, Into the White Eye Rising (Parts IV - VI)

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IV. Upwards, into the white eye rising, There is will, to stay, yet stays no will to be. Come,…

Blank Inside

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She remembers the days when she could have purchased every card in the store and found the words to fill them all.

Going the Way of the Dodo

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her expressive sigh releasing. Sated. The last of our kind, evolving flightless we remain on the ground, culling through corpulent consumption.

Alice in Hell: 13 slithy variations

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1. Having made Alice from one of the Mad Hatter's ribs, Humpty Dumpty told her she could do anything, except speak. “How bothersome!” she said.2. In the church, Alice was horrified to be presented with a talking lamb. “EAT ME!” it bleated and, as the…

Cold

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Winter will be cold this year, you tell her. You read that. She says she is with child with her new husband. You tell her she's forty-five, it is selfish. The baby. It's fine. You demand to be at her tests. Evan may let you, she says. He's a doll. She would never use that…

Oopsy-Daisy!

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[This story definitely WON'T be appearing in this month's "Alfred Hitchock's Mystery Magazine"!]

Hooves on the Sand

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It was a bright day in April, the cruelest month, and the gears and pumps of the train beat on into the still air.

Autobiography 22: It’s Not Just the Income

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Unless they leave you comatose,/ it’s the disasters you remember.

Forever KAP

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She mustn't...

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 12

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Frank was happy to leave the art show and take the train back to SoHo.

WikiGreen (a semi-found poem)

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Green is the color of emeralds, jade, and growing grass. In the continuum of colors of visible light it is located between yellow and blue. Green is the color mostShades of green desireIn the Category: Shades of green Green politics meet…

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 35

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I visited his loft last week. There were many exciting new pictures. Francesco was your main money earner before, now he will be again.

ANSWER: (g)

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[CAUTION: READING THIS STORY COULD CAUSE IRREPARABLE "CULTURE SHOCK" AND IS NOT ADVISED FOR OLD FOLKS, PREGNANT WOMEN, OR THOSE WITH "MONSTROUS, FRAGILE EGOS"!]

Omen

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The bird sat there some time. Several minutes. My wife and I grabbed out i-Pads and took pictures.

Masquerade II

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. . . once you start reading and thinking about what he's saying, it's like looking at the reflection of your soul in a mirror . . .

The Swindler

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John Davies paces nervously around an empty parking lot...

Love in the Time of the NASA Mars Rover

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I've lost the remote control to my brain

The Beautiful Mercedes

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The screen door slowly opened. I was expecting the second / coming of perfection.