“All I know is he’s an engineer.” Dell said. He was a thick, sprawling man whose hair was beginning to gray. They (Dell, Kit, Amber and Dee) were on the way to a dinner with Larson, a colleague from work, and Dell was driving. He leaned over the steering wheel. He was seriously wondering how … Continue reading Managing Dinner at Larson’s
Winter is here, but it isn’t on the Cape, hot and clear seventy-two with patches of sun, no snow, the seagulls from Seattle have moved in and settled to share the festivities of krill with wayward penguins sunbathing on the beach. Winter is here; but not on the Cape of Horn, forties and fifties with … Continue reading Winter is Here
Coffee eyes watch over dark snow for the languid unlidding of the sun
Danny Ossuress was a slitherer. He slunk into the party, gliding around the cracked-ajar door, and slipped along the walls, to the punch bowl. He ran his pink little tongue around his lips and dipped a sip of the sauce into a plastic cup. Then his eyes guided his head with cold blooded precision around … Continue reading On His Belly Shall He Go
“There is no evidence of ecstasy in this blood.” Eric said. As usual Eric was saying words that meant about ziltch. Eric is my friend but Eric is not very accurate when he speaks. Eric speaks for effect, not for saying anything you can put in your freezer. The bear was still out there. It … Continue reading Hunting Bear with Eric
“I never mattered much to you, did I?” She walked into the water. What mattered was not my saying, but her. She is water, awash in the fantasy that a speaking matters, that my saying matters or that any saying of things matters. How tell the sea of my heart? So, I didn’t say. Dolphins … Continue reading A Matter of Speaking
A sound sounds and, sounding, rises, rises sounding loud, loud as the beginning, a beginning that is but noise a noise named God. And God is the sound, a sound full of its rising, that sounds a sound that wants an articulate for the inarticulate rumble of a sounding, a sounding empty of sound but … Continue reading In the Begin. . . .
It was a house whose architect was time. It was old then, even then, when the boy was but three years old. In a time far past, it had been a single room of log and dab. But when the boy first knew it, it had grown into five rooms under heavy cottonwood and willow … Continue reading Architects in Time
Frank Uppsershaw died last Sunday afternoon. He died utterly and absolutely during the fourth quarter of the Ravens-Seahawks game. Ravens were up by six points. They had the ball. There were two minutes and twenty-three seconds left to the game. Then Lamar tossed a short screen to Ingram, and it looked like Ingram fumbled. The … Continue reading How Deadly Can a Fact Be?
Walking is an antiquated mode of travel, to be sure. And homo sapiens seem to have left it in a lonely cloud of earth killing carbon. There are folks in my neighborhood who will drive the seven miles to the bar for a beer and a gossip with pals, but will not walk 100 yards … Continue reading A Sunday Walk comprised of Great Joy