Monthly Archives: July 2018

A jarful of days

In the corner of my yard in the mid-afternoon heat in my hammock with Pablo Neruda between my legs, my glasses off, bare-chested and unbathed, I think about death: my body a lump in a sack swinging here: all this, … Continue reading

Posted in death, poetry, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Fred and Ted go camping

We went back up the Teanaway, the river valley on the east side of the Cascades that’s one of our favorite camping spots but prone to wildfires this time of year: an 18 mile road with only one way in … Continue reading

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The life of a dog

The sunset was now 8:51, sunrise 5:39. A thick layer of marine clouds on my morning walk to the lake, suggestion of fall by the gray color tones and ripples around the shore. Leaves starting to fall like a bunch … Continue reading

Posted in identity, Memoir, parenting | Tagged , , , , , , | 19 Comments

An examination of spirit and self, told from beneath a sheet

When Dawn leaves town, Charlotte sleeps with me in our bed. Friday night, and she complained about the Brian Eno music, calling it spooky. So I carried the remains of that record with me up Cougar Mountain the next morning, … Continue reading

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Going back to Lehigh Street

The fins on the air conditioning units were cold and bent in places and dripped on the pavement. I noticed that, and the texture of mortar between the red brick on each of the apartment units, the red berries on … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir | Tagged , , , , , , | 24 Comments

The day the rain stopped

The last rain fell on July 10. They were saying that was it, it would be a long time before it came back. When the rain ends in Seattle it’s like time stops—and when it returns it’s like an old … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, parenting | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 21 Comments

Decorative chains, lucky charms, symbols in garbage pails

In the morning it looked like it had rained over night, and the mountains were socked in with clouds. I took a last walk to the river but there wasn’t much to see, and the dog wasn’t out. The dog … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, parenting, travel, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | 25 Comments