Sitting outside as the storm gathers, on the outer edge of it: thinking that all things have their edges good or bad, where they begin.
prose
Breaking our kids from screens
The stream of consciousness is real, our perception is sharpened by stillness. You can drink from it and feel refreshed.
Future perfect
It is six years ago now and we are making plans to move to Germany. The kids will be at a good age, we’ll all learn the language. I’ll quit my job and take time to plan our next move…. Read More ›
Outside Atlantis
So sadly defined by work, cut out like a bowl.
I’ve been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand
We are living this life where everyone we encounter is just a version of ourselves, the same as in dreams. How long have we been imagining shapes in the clouds? Or telling stories?
Stand by me
I went down into the quarry and my calves burned coming out.
Touching from a distance
Well, this weekend I trimmed my toenails and put out the flag. We didn’t make any plans. I moved a knobby round of firewood up to the fire pit so we could use it as a side table. And broke… Read More ›
Rainy day, dream away
In that dream they came down and the kids ran for them, a spinning set of swings in the air with hats falling from the sky and a big field with the sound of children running to catch them, one… Read More ›
Blues to Elvin
Mondays are best for jazz.
Blacking out the friction
Of course I remembered the name Dick Boac, he worked at Martin Guitars as an “archivist,” a Falstaff type. But I couldn’t remember anything more about him because he was John’s friend, and John died more than 10 years ago… Read More ›
