How many selves do we get?
humor
Poem to celebrate an open PO
On the last day before I went back to work I lay on the sofa with my shirt off and the morning sun coming in, playing a record, burning incense, reading poetry. All I had left was to clean the… Read More ›
Wit’s End, Washington
In the mornings it’s so dark I just lay in the den watching constellations and listening to the clocks tick, thinking any day now I’ll start work. I read about portmanteau words like brunch, Brexit, and Microsoft. The word psionics,… Read More ›
Your Mom’s Ashes
Lily and her friends have formed a band called Your Mom’s Ashes, but spell it in a way that bastardizes the your and ignores the possessive for the mom’s. The four of them circle our property looking creatively blocked, needing… Read More ›
The intensely masculine act of splitting wood
I fantasized regularly about having a good woodpile. For me, woodpiles always represented a unique combination of order and comfort. Everything in its right place. But after three days of splitting wood every part of me hurt. On the third… Read More ›
How I spent the back half of my summer, unemployed
I took my time shaving, flossing, folding the laundry and putting away dishes. I took long, indulgent showers. In short, I slowed down. Stopped checking my phone. Went through things in the garage, reread old letters, threw out none. Sifted… Read More ›
Letters and passageways (3): Rob and Paul
This is a series of rewritten journal entries from the summer I spent in the south of France, the first entry here. Rob and Paul seem like an unlikely gay couple to me, not knowing what gay couples are supposed… Read More ›
