Month: August 2015

August 28, 2015 admin No comments exist

The Well-Made Bed (for Nancy) She is like a well-made bed. Clean, crisp, and stylish and always appropriate. Syncing with the decor. Waiting for me patiently. And I am more the morning after: sheets tossed about, nothing left unmessed. With a blanket bunched up as if a body remained beneath or a shadow slunked in…

August 21, 2015 admin No comments exist

The Honeycomb August 21, 2015 What is it about fear that so flusters? I can sit and pick out every fiber from some, a weaver unmaking a rug. Other times, I am shaken by wells of damp and gloomy dread that wash over me when I’m most alone. Lately I have found a honeycomb of…

August 14, 2015 admin No comments exist

Son of Fortune When I consider all that I’ve man mangled, began and foreswore, left half-assembled, started and quit, started and quit, a kid riding a bike for the first time and bashing it for a scraped knee; All that I’ve unjustly darkened in frustration or despair, some weird wellspring of the worst animal fear……

August 7, 2015 admin No comments exist

The Whistler At daybreak on Saturdays the enchanted music rose to my bedroom window. Deep and melodious, its origin, mysterious. One morning I leaned out as the whistler walked up the driveway. I spied an older black man and thought it my secret. Then I was a boy unbeaten. Though Selma and Montgomery had rocked…