Category Archives: writing

Song to the dark lands

Posted on September 22, 2018 by

When I look through the trees at the park near our house they are all pretty much the same as when we started coming here—like me, a bit older but still the same, mostly unnoticed. And the kids were so … Continue reading →

Posted in death, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

Twilight September

Posted on September 19, 2018 by

In the late afternoon shadows, by the underlit leaves, near a tree bent by the weight of its own fruit…in the breeze between summer and fall: there, in the crook of a bush by a rock I spied a colored … Continue reading →

Posted in parenting, poetry, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

The flavor is in the blood

Posted on September 16, 2018 by

Any cook will tell you, when you brown meat and rest it on the plate, blood will accumulate there and you always use that blood, or whatever juice comes out, when you put it in the pot. I sat in … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 43 Comments

Red wine and rain (repeat 3x, fast)

Posted on September 13, 2018 by

Down came the rain like a permanent marker. The permanence of fall, of nature, of flame. And the gutters gasped, and the rain slapped until it made sparks when it hit. And down the panes like a waterfall, the cadence … Continue reading →

Posted in prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 18 Comments

Rainer Maria Rilke made me write this

Posted on September 8, 2018 by

The afternoon sky looks pregnant but it’s too early to tell. And the tall trees reach to tickle its belly with stick fingers drawn by a kid. The dishwasher and drier are running, and there’s a pot on the stove … Continue reading →

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

Near to fall

Posted on September 5, 2018 by

And so at last it was done, the book of poems I spent all summer with it seemed. They weren’t my poems, but became mine more and more each day. I sat on a chair in the grass and put … Continue reading →

Posted in prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 22 Comments

Gone are the 8 o’clock sunsets

Posted on August 29, 2018 by

How much was left undone by summer’s end, in the corner of our back yard by the maple tree. The work was coming in again, with everyone coming back from vacations and wanting their things fast-tracked, rush jobs. Learning all … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 18 Comments