It is 6:25 a.m. This fact crowds into my every joint and sinew with a distressing certainty. Seven feet away on the dresser, the alarm clocks bleats forth with the promise of incoming V2s. It is not visually evident, my view of the room obscured by mounds of bed clothes. Nonetheless it is there,… Continue reading “…And Miles to Go Before I Wake.”
They say the past is a another country. New Orleans is a country with another present. There are old buildings but there are odd ways; the second line, the cemeteries, the crews, the parish system, the city accent. There is history preserved and it is beautiful but much of the beauty lies in strangeness, the alternate,… Continue reading New Orleans, mon amour
Low tide retreated out so it seemed like you could walk all the way to Boston. Zeb meandered in a different direction than Mike and Sean and they were now a hundred yards away, unsuccessfully stalking clam beds. Their behavior was exaggerated, a pantomime of something and Zeb figured they were laughing, and he… Continue reading Malachi
Fran finished another beer. He stared at Marina who sat opposite him, yammering with her friend on the sofa. She turned in full profile so that the fineness of her brow, her nose and chin was apparent. Contemplating her features had been the best of a limited selection of diversions for two or so… Continue reading Bogota
I have a vision of a multitude, a host of souls waiting in a giant station wagon as my father and his brother chat on some porch of purgatory. But these souls are not upset with my father for he provides each of them with valuable information: the date of their birth, what the… Continue reading Dad Eulogy
“Fat bastard.” That would be Kunkel or Kinkel or whatever. I don’t actually see him, just a blurry contrast on the lawn two doors down. I still don’t need the railing to go up the front stairs. Maybe I never will. I can get close enough to see the lock and the key is pretty… Continue reading A.L.B.
“You fail calling this eternal You’ve mistaken its strength It was mine, that moment The temporary terror Beauty The aged wood An ephemeral condition” Time flows backwards As we walk it not the woods We imagine the past and in imagining we make it untrue Vergessen. Ferguson It was true The sun danced… Continue reading Notes for Ferguson
The Green Mill was filling up, boys and girls, the usual assortment, art fags. Lester sat at the bar next to the waitress station drinking a coke and rolling the word fag through his mouth. Hissed, a wonderful fricative insult, too good to be confined to the realm of homophobia. After all a queer has … Continue reading A sound that dies – working
During years at first long and full of portent, then short and comforting, they slept close beside each other. Alice came to accept his light snore and learned how to stir him when it got loud. Tim became used to the bracelets she wore to bed, silver moths in the dark. They did not share… Continue reading The Attic – working
Nils borrowed his sister‑in‑law’s car on Sunday morning and drove through the tunnel into Manhattan. His brother Paul and his family were getting ready to go to church and Paul seemed a bit surprised that he chose not to with them, thinking it would set a bad example for his children but when asked,… Continue reading Poseurs – working
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