Tag Archives: prose

The Oxford comma

Dawn said there’s a cheaper treatment for lice, where you just put mayonnaise on your head and tie it off in a bag and then wait a couple hours, and they die from the oils. I learned about the Oxford … Continue reading

Posted in parenting, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 16 Comments

Lines (of longitude and latitude)

Though the tree is dead, it’s home to a lot of bugs, birds and bats, you can tell by the holes. It’s like the abandoned factory across the street from our apartment in Philadelphia that became home to the homeless, … Continue reading

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

Gray of lake combined to sky, the same

Through the narrow path in the nearby park, a semi-circle that crowns my walk, the trees are leaning in and damp with dew. It’s late spring now, past peak, broken petals brought down by an overnight rain. I come to … Continue reading

Posted in prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

One Saturday in May, with ’77 million paintings’ playing

The cottonwood started falling and now it feels like we’re in a snow globe that won’t stop. Charlotte and I went to the aquarium and looked at the octopus, its sheep eyes, the valves where the cheeks would be, opening … Continue reading

Posted in music, musings, prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 21 Comments

Arabesque No. 2 in G major

At last the rain stopped, and the fog set down on the tallest trees. Their shoulders were slung low from the weight of it all, and the morning street lamps were on their last shift. But the birds sang as … Continue reading

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

Music for airports

At the far end of the couch, where the dog waits for us when we’re gone, I laid my book and my head down and looked outside at the gray and the green. We were still on east coast time, … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 27 Comments

Blurred passage to poem

How the poem appeared an object in the mist I paddled toward and circled round And though it was odd and lustrous, with living things nesting and squirming inside, it was too tall and slick for me to climb. Better … Continue reading

Posted in poetry, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments