Category Archives: prose

The Road Home

The Joni Mitchell song was playing in his head when he stepped out of the car onto the highway. The salt lick – it was for her cows, she’d said, but he thought it might be laced with LSD – … Continue reading

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One Thing

He only did one thing well. This new medication, it – went to his head. In the coffee shop he tapped out a sequence on the table, tappity-to-tap-to-tappity-to-tap, until he got it right. Those people were looking but he had … Continue reading

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Just Eat Brownies

Scuffing the pavement, I tossed more rocks into my father’s garden. I kept an eye on the street. I’d see a car turn the corner in the distance – glint of a chrome bumper — sure I saw legs. A … Continue reading

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The Stopping Hand

How the dark stains the shadow, some shapeless foolery, some cool corner we didn’t see where the dust landed like tiny flocks of pigeons, roosting for the duration, quills settled in unruffled silence where no wind flew, no hawk dove, … Continue reading

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Snarl — To write, to live

That snarl — cur, holding inside a tornado of wrath, of slash/burn vitriol — what do I do with that, as a writer and as a person? I want to write it down, of course. To remember that moment, to … Continue reading

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Direction

Winter’s circular bones — you know when you detach, exit, look for your car in the snow and wonder?  The time of the Greeks to the time when you can’t find your car in the snow — it all passes … Continue reading

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Foresting the Hillside

Sometimes, when the butter just warms up, you’ll run outside with feathers trailing behind you. Your darkest furrowed look — how impressive you seem. But it bodes well. Amazing arms, something extrudes from fingers — seeds, shooting from the fingertips … Continue reading

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