Like any living creature, it must be fed, it must be nurtured, loved. Neglected, it dies or stagnates or shrinks which might be worse than death. This blog, like King Tut, the bearded dragon living caged in my family room, basking beneath heat lamps, bright white and scorching during the day, warm red and comforting … Continue reading Blogs don’t eat crickets
Prose Poem
The Cat
I lie awake, the minutes after turning out my light, brain active, anticipating the drawing shade of sleep. I took Lorazepam, a mild narcotic. It numbs my brain, silences the concerns that shake me awake in the early hours of tomorrow. Sleep feels unlikely. I wait for the medicine to dissolve. I wait for my … Continue reading The Cat
A Chance Encounter
Wary, maybe cautious. That’s a nice way to put it. Distrustful. Suspicious, is more accurate. Four sets of eyes, watching. A couple and their dogs. Unleashed Dobermans, they seemed in control, all of them, but menacing still. No one moved, no one said a word. Half off the path, glaring. I gave a wave, and … Continue reading A Chance Encounter
My Spot
On Saturday, he woke up sick. Not sick in a way worth blogging about: no visits to the E.R., no uncontrollable vomiting, no diarrhea, he didn’t even have a fever. He was stuffed up, congested. He moved from bed to the corner of the couch, the spot where I always sit, next to the ceiling … Continue reading My Spot
Untitled #1
It's a million pounds of marble. It sits like a massive boulder or a bomb-shelter two blocks from the Square, which is what we call the center of town, even though it’s a traffic circle. Past the comic book store and the candy shop and the place that sells expensive shoes from Sweden, the century … Continue reading Untitled #1
Caffeinated #2
On Saturday morning my head pounds the rhythm of my pulse an alarm clock alerting me that the time to start drinking coffee has already passed. Also: Caffeinated
Motions of Tourette
Eyes clenched, squeezed like a pair of fists, seconds before a fight. Eyeballs lurch, left then right, pushing ripples behind my bunched-up lids. Rapid eye movements in a dream of pain. Probing for that sandpapery spot—oh, they itch so much. I think no one is watching. Teeth on edge, scraping, my jaw gliding, forward and … Continue reading Motions of Tourette
