Category: Uncategorized
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My phone case is shiny plastic, scarred now from use. It is the color of a cartoon character’s eyes, the mischievous female sidekick with a heart of gold’s eyes, eyes that sparkle and pop out from the screen a bright teal-y blue not found in nature. The edges surrounding the black glass face of the…
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It’s been twenty-five years since my mom died. Of course I always wished I had been able to compare notes on motherhood with her (she died just weeks after my firstborn came into the world). But now what strikes me is how much I’d like to be able to talk with her about roles. About…
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someday I’ll love Elaine Olund (after Ocean Vuong/after Frank O’Hara/after Roger Reeves) Someday I’ll smile every time I bump into myself. Even when that self is a mess, an ooze, tears and unwashed hair undone tasks and hiccups and wrinkles and regrets that smell like Marlboro Lights and malt liquor And I’ll smile even when…
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No words, just a picture.
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Sunday Morning: a sketch pillows play on the daybed housecat swishes her tail radio paints music chocolate-dark delicious as my espresso the Swedish horse with the broken leg assesses my mental state the coffee cup outlines the circle of its base onto the table my sandals inscribe lines on my feet, a loose sundress erases…
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It’s high time. I have to have a talk with my Self. I jump right in. It’s going to be awkward, what I have to say. And Self can be very—fragile and defensive. No sense in beating around the bush. “Self,” I begin (because it’s always good to call people by name, to personalize it,…
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conversation I wondered what they find to talk about now after all those summers, baking hot all those winters, pelted with sleet still standing, side by side, steadfast together do they ever wish they could escape, be alone? or do they both secretly dream of deeper connection, a current shared energy transcending their important jobs,…
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A very dear friend asked how I liked my new place. “It’s like I’m on vacation,” I wrote back. “But underneath it all seems wrong. I’m a little afraid. It’s like the vacation will end soon, and I have no home to return to.” “Give it time,” he messaged back. “I’ve come to believe home…
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casting stones For Maribel Trujillo-Diaz, deported last week to Mexico In the dark before dawn the birds sang as Maribel was snatched off the streets by ICE agents— her four American-born children, ages 3, 10, 12, and 14, never got to say goodbye to their mother In Fairfield she worked processing chicken parts primary breadwinner…
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Happy rebirth-day to me I don’t know the actual date of my rebirth-day. It was a Monday, the day after Easter, 2012. I suppose I could easily google it, but I prefer to let the day float in time, tied forever to the anchor of Easter. I wanders through time the way the ancients believed…
eeo 