Author: admin

I long to shed the layers of grief one at a time baring new skin each time, to heal until at last my skin is newly thick enough to carry joy alongside grief

is there room on the back of your bike for one last ride is there time for one last woo hoo as we peal out of the driveway my arms circled around you leaning into every curve your left hand on my leg claiming me is there time...

The two cats go galumping through the house playing at Greco Cat wrestling. The kitchen fern’s fronds tremble in a new spring breeze. Sunlight through window glass is warm as the porcelain coffee mug cupped in my hands....

My aunt by marriage is perfection in a nineteen-fifties way. Dark hair, never changing, slightly teased in weekly beauty parlor visits, simple make-up, never over-done, tailored slacks creased just so, a passionless woman, cool...

For a fund raiser Boozie’s Bar took a lesson from the big city that sold chances on rubber ducks cast like bread on the waters to race and win prizes for supporters of the cause. But it had been a dry summer and the little creek...

She carved the last words from herself with scalpel and pen. The earlier, not so deeply buried ones, came out as they went in. In the end a self-Caesarian. was required. The surgeon and the patient died. The words, however,...

Sad enough when a language outlives its users, but so much sadder if the reverse were true: People rendered mute, reduced to grunts and gestures, tongues used solely for chewing food or ululating. To lose an individual word...

In becoming translucent we pass light through us As a window screen strains a breeze into slender columns of air. Likewise, we parse light into colors, otherwise unseen. They re-assemble On the other side of us, in pairs or...

The only way to reach the hidden hollow known to us locals as the Devil’s Bedroom, was to scramble up one of the gullies that ran down to the lake. In holey sneakers, rescued from the dustbin and designated for tramping through...

See her there? The famously ornery one in a rarified moment of rest—statuesque in her life-vest on the back bench of the rowboat hitched to the dock. Her father, the oarsman, has gone back for his camera. He’s on the landing...

Here they come: your long-gone mother and grandmother shucking corn under the bonsai on the windowsill, laundry flapping around them—half mad           with the oncoming storm. And here’s another familiar phantom—Carol from...