Tag Archives: stream-of-consciousness

Iceland spar

Friday, April 13 Allentown, PA Between me and the homeless guy the table remained open the whole time I sat at the Starbucks. I wrote and watched him from the corner of my eye stirring his coffee. Three regulars at … Continue reading

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

Crow call for April

The chicken brined and so did I, in a solution of salt, memories and music. That Easter in France with Rob and Paul roasting the lamb — then the one 30 years ago I had to work at the drug … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , | 15 Comments

Stormy skies one Sunday

After all the noise from the weekend, it was good to come down to our den and just sit in the morning quiet. Outside the skies looked stormy, and I thought about the porn star and the president, the interview … Continue reading

Posted in writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Leading the witness

3/24/18 Pulling into Wenatchee on a Friday night just before dark. The Olive Garden family restaurant, a long time since I’d been to one and longer still before I’ll go back. Charlotte, slap happy / punch drunk on two Cokes, … Continue reading

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Moss-petting in Portland (March, ’18)

Signs for deaf children, hand-painted Volvo’s, driving into Portland on a Friday night. By morning the rain had brought down the cherry blossom blooms like confetti, and the children across the street were young enough they could walk on walls … Continue reading

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

Stones and bones [cemetery song]

Once you make a major purchase (house, car, major appliances) things invariably start breaking down and costing more money. Things break in multiples, the same with bad omens (in 3’s, 5’s, 7’s, like the number of days you can expect … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, parenting, poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | 25 Comments

White-gray on the color wheel

In the 19 years I’ve known Dawn it was maybe the second time I’ve seen her hungover, one random Friday in February. And though it was set to snow and I tried a new gumbo recipe, built a fire, she … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, parenting, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 19 Comments