Tag Archives: life

Down, down

Down went the day, followed by the sun, the night, the moon which rose just a hair of itself, the kids, then us: the weights on the clock: everything goes down. They talk about the ascension, about what happens “after,” … Continue reading

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

Lisbeth Salander will have her reckoning

The upsetting quality of the music I play. The look of my hair after several days without shampoo. The sense I should be outside but don’t feel like it, the look of the snow after it finally seeps into our … Continue reading

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

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

Magnificent return to splendor

All the grisly-bearded rooftops in the morning covered with frost, warming up the car. Realizing I’m falling into familiar work patterns, things I used to do in my last job: going out to the car a few minutes before I … Continue reading

Posted in musings | Tagged , , , , , , , | 24 Comments

Father and daughter

One day you will notice what the days do, how they curl and build and fall apart like the waves, most times indistinct, sometimesĀ disappearing like socks in a drawer you can’t find, they fold over on themselves and get separated … Continue reading

Posted in parenting, poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

The piper will lead us to reason

At the German school, the kids get dismissed for five minutes between every class to go outside and get some fresh air or have a smoke, some of the younger ones play on the climbing bars and hang upside down … Continue reading

Posted in travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 25 Comments

Leaves clawing the cobblestones

When the French arrive, it’s with armsful of things from France: breads wrapped in brown paper bags, coolers full of cheese, boxes of wine, even duvets for their beds. It feels like a hotel and we lose track of how … Continue reading

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