“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
At the open of ‘On the Road,’ Kerouac references recovering from an illness but without explanation or detail. From memory, I think he in fact states he doesn’t want to discuss it. Perhaps not. But when I read the book, I thought it was a very significant flaw at the beginning of a book. I… Continue reading Scars and other metaphors