Tag Archives: Cocteau Twins

Fifty-fifty clown

The crow’s wings are magician hands that flap and disappear through the swirl of animal souls and the gray marine layer of morning. The lake is gray too, ribbed by a breeze or by paddle boats, the same each day … Continue reading

Posted in poetry, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

‘The pink opaque’

Surprisingly, all the muscle I once had in my chest has loosened and now feels like a boob when I cup it in my hands. The kids lost or broke all the cell phone chargers, so we ordered more from … Continue reading

Posted in humor, Memoir, technology | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

‘Wax and wane’

By the time we got to the end of October I was done with it. The Halloween decals on the windows, the witches and skulls…it seemed to go on forever, like it should have been over by now. The skeleton … Continue reading

Posted in death, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments

Portrait of a house cat eating a bird one Thursday

Charlotte and I sat at the breakfast nook eating frozen pizza and watching our cat Roxy eat a bird. I watched Charlotte watching Roxy for a few bites before she realized what Roxy was eating and was glad when she … Continue reading

Posted in parenting, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Wet metal drum

The sound of the rain came back last night, choking the corner gutter. The feeling when life pulls away in some irreversible moment, a large ship moving out from the dock and everyone running down to the end of it … Continue reading

Posted in prose | Tagged , , , , , | 20 Comments

Frou-frou foxes in midsummer fires

I dropped the kids off at theater camp with the other awkward-looking children not cut out for sports, pale and withdrawn, future artists: and Charlotte’s outfit, a riot of stripes and patterns — she’s still doing that thing where she … Continue reading

Posted in musings, parenting, travel | Tagged , , , , , , | 22 Comments

‘Is it heaven or Las Vegas?’

On Mondays I’d play Miles Davis driving in to work, “Kind of Blue.” I liked the wordplay and the solemn start to the album that matched the start of the work week, and seemed to be saying you’re fucked, but … Continue reading

Posted in musings, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments