When Daddy Drinks the Laundry

Mother Mary sat quietly in the sunshine across the street from Olivia’s. It did me good to see her in the spring sun. A lot of people were walking past, and Mother sat quietly in the spring sun, her faded blue denim shirt open for the sun on her throat, and her orange and blue … Continue reading When Daddy Drinks the Laundry →

Frog Pond Haiku

When I pass a still pond of water, especially during the spring when the Frogs are sounding, I think of Basho's poem Old pond frog jump in plop I have not read it in the original Japanese--cannot is more accurate--but have read that in the Japanese the poem is such an onomatopoeic poem that sound … Continue reading Frog Pond Haiku →

The Parade Makes a Hard Right into Chaos

O this ragabash of clowns leading the national parade with their upside trickle downs their ships for shoes and flappy gowns— their huuuuuge fake news charade! O hang this ragabash of clowns and the unfunny mess they’ve made with their treacle nonsense nouns and gibberish through smiles as frowns their constant in and out charade. … Continue reading The Parade Makes a Hard Right into Chaos →

Orson Dwid Meets a Neighbor

Orson Dwid had just about had it with the guy wearing the bright pink shirt and scintillating green jeans. Where the hell do they sell that kind of. . . . Orson could not think of an appropriate adjective to describe whatever the guy was wearing. He was going to say ‘shit’ but it was … Continue reading Orson Dwid Meets a Neighbor →

All Her Lines (the Artist)

All her lines are fine and shift in remarkable ways as she brushes hair, hip and décolleté, or strokes to draw an eye. A simpered lip shapes vocabularies and certain curves string a long line of one-eyed rube-in-ruts in their wake. she will amuse the dandy or dangle depending on her angle, But, what he … Continue reading All Her Lines (the Artist) →

Hunger is Almost a Language

“I could pot one,” Isaac had said. “And you could probly wing another before they had your guts out and feeding ants,” Her father said. “So, for once, keep it in your goddamned pants.” Ida Eastwill would remember that until her dying day. She would remember the hot sun, and how heavy and useless the … Continue reading Hunger is Almost a Language →

I’ll Take Thirty Days Till Spring

“Did you bring his bail,” the girl with bright chartreuse hair said. She grinned. It was a smirk. “No,” “Obviously,” she said. I did not ask her why she bothered to ask the question. She sat on a high stool in a little room. There was a thick glass window between her and me. Her … Continue reading I’ll Take Thirty Days Till Spring →

The Reason I Need This Job

In the morning, OM and I walked to O’Maley’s for a job. Mother stayed with Too Many to nurse him along. He had pneumonia. We had enough for maybe two-three days to pay for Too Many’s room at the Tuck Me Inn. Doc Randy said he needed a couple of weeks rest, at least. So … Continue reading The Reason I Need This Job →

A Hospital Bed at the Tuck Me Inn

Too Many leaned his hands over the fire barrel. He was shivering. “Jeeze, it’s cold,” he said. A thin sheen of sweat glowed on his face. In this cold that couldn’t be a good thing. “You Ok? Toom,” I said. “Jeeze, it’s cold.” I looked at the clock on the tower behind the church. The … Continue reading A Hospital Bed at the Tuck Me Inn →

How Complicated can it Be?

“It’s complicated,” Vereen Filimimore would say. It was her way of clarifying every point. If you asked her why she was late for a hair appointment or had forgotten her niece Becky’s birthday or why her dogs were marauding Fernie Isnoggle’s cattle, Vereen would say “It’s complicated.” People reacted in various ways to this excuse. … Continue reading How Complicated can it Be? →