“It’s the only way,” Evan said. He scanned the steep ice filled chutes and the long steep ridge. “Obviously. But where does it go?” Dorothy had a lot of things she had to be thinking of. Not the least of which was the seed she carried. “Seed of a new mankind,” the old shaman had … Continue reading They Begin the Descent into the Ufflands
A Holiday to Inner Harbor, Baltimore
An idle afternoon to finger lace with suburban longing and taste our unhungry way through a day, when she came upon us like salvation. Please sir please may I wash your windows Please sir I’m trying to feed my little girls I’ve got GlassClean. And we gazed over glinting water and the dance of sails— … Continue reading A Holiday to Inner Harbor, Baltimore
Hot wind, leaves rustle, flash green then silver with sun— Christmas tree lights! copious
Washing the Dog’s Blue Dish
Farely was gone. They had taken him to the vet. His tail thumped on the gurney. Then it stopped. The eyes glazed, and he was gone. Dianne was surprised to find herself thinking about it two days later. She had not particularly liked the grubby old dog—he was Doug’s. But she stood at the kitchen … Continue reading Washing the Dog’s Blue Dish
Feeding the Grubs at the Feed-the-Hungry Feast
This is a repost of yesterday's post. Writelee could not resist adding the word "grubby," which qualifies for the Ragtag word of the day. "Grubby" should have been put into the original. There are a few other edits. Writelee has a discomfort about this sketch and the whole series that began with "I Only go … Continue reading Feeding the Grubs at the Feed-the-Hungry Feast
On Leaving New Mexico for Civilization
Forgive me, eyes, I’ve scorned the dusky mesas, salmon and orange, miles from anywhere but sky. Forgive me, ears, I’ve shunned that sky closing in, chuckling with thunder and tittering half the night like a crazed old shaman who scatters vermilion and pollen among pottery and whiskey bottle shards in the rocks in the hills. … Continue reading On Leaving New Mexico for Civilization
The Child in Toe Shoes
She bends her bones to fling them high, a gawky graceful, nearly flawless dance, but the stodgy Envies snicker why slipper pinches will one day wince a cry against the hour she donned them just to dance, she bends her bones to fling them high. Spare no worry on the gargling sigh of those old … Continue reading The Child in Toe Shoes
Coffee
Ambrosia should have been this dark and bitter potion, not the liqueur of yeasty fruit, not the sparkly cloy that Greek admen teach us gods guzzle in mythy mope. A god's palate has such a pampered tongue— libated with honey of human woe and satiate with the pure chill of heart-brewed sorrow— it should wake … Continue reading Coffee
Like imprinted ducklings— they follow her swagger across campus— these poetry undergrads Prepared in response to the Ragtag Community daily prompt: sequacious
Answer Correctly and Nobody Listens
When you answer all the wrong questions, they do this to you. They asked, “who was the greatest writer in the Universe?” “I am unaware of any great writers outside this solar system,” I told them. They persisted, “Who is the greatest writer of this solar system,” they said. They caveated this with, “for God’s … Continue reading Answer Correctly and Nobody Listens
