Tag Archives: writing

Discreet Music | January 16, 2018

I made marrow soup for the first time (or released the marrow I guess, into a soup). And I took a hot bath and imagined myself settling into it the same as the chicken carcass, reduced. I flickered in and … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

A piece of Richard Brautigan (for Loren)

The cat’s eyes have gone cloudy, or maybe it’s just my imagination. She spends most nights in the garage, which would explain the need for a thicker coat. And in the morning she pulls a pipe cleaner out of the … Continue reading

Posted in musings, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

“Dry”

I sat down with my boss in an alcove off to the side in an area intended for casual conversation. Everything was done at that point, I’d signed the paperwork and decided I was leaving. Both of us were relieved, … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, prose, travel | Tagged , , , , , | 16 Comments

Dead souls soliloquy (for Archie Loss)

The cat is all business, can be found in the morning by the garage door flap like a killer in the shadows waiting in the dark for anything trying to get inside. Dawn remarked, there’s mouse innards in the utility … Continue reading

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

The Fall of 2015 | 90-day family road trip, UK

We were living in Germany but didn’t have a visa and had to leave for three months, had to leave the Schengen and most of Western Europe: so we decided on the UK because they spoke English there and we … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

Late morning early fall, the beginning of the end all over again

I go to nature to heal, I go every day. And though it always feels the same, it never is. I rummage through the past and present, I go looking for what others leave behind. I didn’t expect the moon … Continue reading

Posted in prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 37 Comments

Wednesday’s twilight anthem

The Jupiter’s Beard is fanned-out pornographic in our front yard, exposed to the root. And the grass is so dead, it’s what Gregg Allman’s beard must have looked like before he died, the same gold-straw color, drawn out thick. It’s … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, musings, prose, travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 23 Comments