It’s a million pounds of marble. It sits like a boulderor a bomb-sheltertwo blocks from the Square,which is what we call the town center even though it’s a circle.Past the comic book storeand the candy shopand the place that sellsexpensive shoes from Sweden,the century-old Federal Buildinglooms on the left shamingevery other property on the street. … Continue reading A New Day
Prose Poem
A Christmas Carol (part ii)
I read it every December. The library owns a ratty old copy, a broken binding, a lousy font. The lines sit too close together. People like me with a propensity towards double vision struggle not to jump around—reread the last line, skip to the next. Even though I know I’ll read it, since I always … Continue reading A Christmas Carol (part ii)
One Hit
Rosemerry wrote of regret. A taste of winning… once. Fleeting fame and a lifelong slide. One hit wonder. Wonder how my life turned out without that one big hit. Rosemerry wrote about choices. Decisions and consequences. Success or failure, which is worse? Sip the elixir now, it dries to sawdust in your throat. Rosemerry wrote … Continue reading One Hit
News media recycle fears and concernsunfounded, unfolded, cautionary blurbsthat hold my attention, anxiety building,society willing to follow the story,wary of lies which fall where they may,the sun shines bright on a pretty fall day. Subscribe to get access Read more of this content when you subscribe today. Log in News cycle recycles fears and concernsunfounded, … Continue reading
Waiting for Comcast
Lately I’m seeing some depression slip in. It’s mostly evident in the body oils that leak into my eyes from a lack of showers. The internet died and died again and again and stayed dead. Me, unable to catch my breath or take a deep breath waiting for Comcast to call back. I snapped at … Continue reading Waiting for Comcast
Unwelcome Attention
Oblivious. Or maybe an open ear, monitoring the room. Yes, probably that, so just an impression of oblivion. I don’t stop myself; I bury my nose in the junction of her neck and shoulder, dry and downy, and inhale the sweet perfume of clean. One eye opens, staring, not at me, but across the room, … Continue reading Unwelcome Attention
Blockade
The ramshackle jumble of tumble-down trees builds a blockade at the edge of my yard. Brown, mostly brown with highlights of muted green—ivy smothered trees, frozen, dried, projecting brown as well. So brownish on brown, in fading light it’s hard to focus on any one object. Fifteen years ago, my house freshly purchased, no deadfall, … Continue reading Blockade
Killing time at Hyundai
Part of my 'killing time' collection. Be advised, I'm not suggesting it's time to kill. Gritty(er), (more) industrial. My morning run around Hanover, PA, not on foot, but on wheels. My car, the Hyundai, the ‘good’ one, needs service. It burns oil, consumes oil, a mechanic recently said. I brought it to the Honda dealership … Continue reading Killing time at Hyundai
Dilemma
Humid as a swamp, the temperature rising, like a steam room coming to life. Yesterday was similar, hard to breathe, the edge of hot, but that was mid-afternoon in the heat of the day. This morning, we’re just getting started. “Can we turn off the AC for a few days? I’d rather be hot than … Continue reading Dilemma
Running beyond the edge of suburbia
We glide, side by side, matching stride and pace. Silent, except for breath, the quiet thump of rubber on asphalt, simultaneous, the steady rhythm accompanied by a pattern playing in my head. Sunny and warm, a gentle tailwind matches our pace, leaving the sensation that we’re standing still, inhaling the pollen-laden air we just breathed … Continue reading Running beyond the edge of suburbia
Blogs don’t eat crickets
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
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
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
The Other Stuff 