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The Touchstone
Posted on March 18, 2014 Leave a Comment
In the kitchen we sat on Sunday mornings, toes tipping icy metal-legged chairs, radio balanced atop the Frigidaire forever playing Benny Goodman’s Goodbye. Of course I could hum that from memory – clarinets and cork, sorrow and bacon breezing out the back door – always naming the songs for sweet-natured amusement. She, too, was made […]
Trip of a Lifetime
Posted on March 17, 2014 Leave a Comment
Before the wake of incinerated wreckage blazed a black slick of surface – just alit and just afire – we were all aboard in the early evening departure reserved only for overseas flights excitement budding in baggage barely checked and almost left behind – Look at all you poor bastards we’re leaving Aren’t you so […]
Poor Salinger
Posted on March 16, 2014 Leave a Comment
Sun-drenched afternoon (when I was babysitting the snot-nosed genius) raised high my feet on the sun porch’s rocking iron loveseat rusting, to read my franny and zooey or nine stories, and drink my iced tea in a jelly jar glass placed carefully atop the red painted cement floor. The breeze flowed coolly through open jalousies, rippling, little bubbles […]
Pieta
Posted on March 13, 2014 1 Comment
I am the color of white sand at midnight, and Jameson slides through my veins like impossible ice peremptorily frozen in its own wake of impracticality – inside me devoid of warmth, but full of the strongest molecules of misery my blood is incapable of covalence repelling all directional attraction I am the hooded mother […]
Metastasia
Posted on March 12, 2014 Leave a Comment
One day, when many summers yet remained for me, the cough and phlegm of the starved contemplated its many misspent summers – above the muted hum of an oxygen concentrator, and amid the useless drips of poison – the foggy prognosis hung, floating bland, no more meaning left to its name than, say, swirling summer […]
Brick City Birthday Girl
Posted on March 11, 2014 2 Comments
There is a thrumming drone of Quiet Cool versus Hayward filter, bubbled up with beads of late evening horseplay – cannonballs jumped off the side fence, dusted with specks of HTH, and tired cicada banter, twisted timeless and tipping into moonlit-gilded white birch bark. Late June crackling and crunching beneath our Dr. Scholl’s – Goddamnit, […]
A Girl by the Bridge 
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