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 poetry
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
Routine
It’s a simple mechanism, the garage door lock. A spring-loaded bolt pushed through a slot in a metal rail—the rail the garage door rolls along as it’s opened or closed. It’s like a deadbolt on the front door. Binary, locked/unlocked, no gray area. A lever releases the lock. The bolt springs back, unlocking the door. … Continue reading Routine
A Bubble
A bubble on my ankle, slightly red, hard to see. Itchy. Soft and squishy. Immediately I think it's gotta be a tick Engorged and floppy, ready to be picked. Or a worm, burrowed, safe and warm, or spider eggs buried against the bone. Yesterday spent in grass and weeds, immersed in brush and under trees. … Continue reading A Bubble
#BlackLivesMatter #NotMyBag
“This is my first protest,” I said. Susan and I drove towards the square, the sign Sophie made awaiting debut, it's birth, safely strapped in our back seat. I’m not demonstrative, I don’t demonstrate. I ponder, get pissed. I tell the world exactly how I feel, quietly, on my couch, through words, written, not shouted … Continue reading #BlackLivesMatter #NotMyBag
Why?
Why does conservative America care about my sexuality? About your sexuality? And why is it a threat? Why are equal rights for all viewed as fewer rights for them? Why do they care if Kaepernick wants to kneel? Does America-the-free only encompass not wearing a mask? Why can't #BlackLivesMatter without causing offense? Why do … Continue reading Why?
Lonely moments before dawn
Shaken awake with triggers pulled, all my boxed checked. Unprepared for a meeting; running late; walking through work without my shirt. The guests arrive, too little food for everyone. I haven’t failed yet, but I will. You don’t want to read about my dream, you have nightmares of your own. At almost dawn, thirty minutes … Continue reading Lonely moments before dawn
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
Meditate
In the darkest nights of winter, Susan and I jog deserted streets. Channeling Jackson Pollock, our swinging hands gripping flashlights scribble vanishing art across the pavement. In the blackness, there’s nothing to see save two beams as they dance and bounce first behind and then before us. We don’t talk. The patterns in our foot-falls … Continue reading Meditate
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
Calm, Content, Relaxed
We layer sensibly. Wicking shirts hanging long over nylon tights. Hats and gloves. A gaiter for my neck—frigid air makes me hunch my shoulders, run stiffly. Today, the coldest day this year. But not uncomfortably so—in the twenties, not the teens. We slip into our running shells as we leave the house. Neon, both of … Continue reading Calm, Content, Relaxed
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
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
Anxious, obsessed
At 8:22 this morning, Tommy woke me up. Accustomed to getting fed at 5:00, I applaud his restraint. His method is always the same, he reaches out a paw and tentatively taps the top of my head. In the winter, I sleep with the covers drawn over my ear and nose. Not much left to … Continue reading Anxious, obsessed
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
The Other Stuff 