Was Calloway reading my thoughts? No doubt yes: a strange kind of light came into his eyes as he looked away and into the fire, and I might have said there was almost a hint of unease, though if so it was gone in a trice--and then he looked dead at me, and his broad gleaming smile spoke triumph, shot through with a tincture of malice...

"I think we've diddled around here long enough," he said, "and it's time now that you got a taste of your troubles upcoming," and no sooner said than…

You can't buy this kind of green in the store--this green plucked from the early garden, dusted off more than washed, eaten with not much oil and vinegar, and it tastes greener and sweeter than anything that has ever crunched between my teeth before.

As you know, I am living with "it," this nebulous "it" that is one step along the path of my life work, work that has never promised to feed…

I'd rather watch your arms while they flail in the moment, your body tense when the atmosphere turns cold, and your eyes light up in that moment of joy.

I'd rather listen to the inflections in your voice -- it's never the same between people and it's where the true spirit lies.

I'd rather feel your hand rubbing my back while I lay with my head on your chest, it adds to my contentment just being with you.

Without you it's a monotone waste of good parchment and…

I was rained on this morning during my walk; I was grateful for it was hot. 
I was walking through and out of some things: both on my mind and afflicting my body.

Walking through the pain and thoughts helped me to know...

You remain, faithful to me, as I do to You. 

The pain and thoughts both went on their way. 

NO, I stand and say, you will not get me-I have faith.

"I am an artist of dreams, " Cab Calloway said, "and now here you come, to my atelier as it were, purporting to be the very last hero in this world, come to slay me.

"Heroes," he snorted, "Walt Disney's last hope on your world to stop such as me and yank the clock back to all the King Arthurs and whatnot that bored even you when you were a young boy in school--yet here you come, Excalibar in hand--" and all of a sudden he was a dragon, breathing fire on some ancient…

I am outside my grandparents house, the winter wind is icey as it blows amber and yellow color leaves off the ground and into the sky. As my gaze follows these leave I catch sight of the gurney in the driveway; I know who lies on it and I know what has happened. Opa had gone peacefully in his sleep just hours after I had said my last good-bye, and now the glowing Christmas lights and fluttering amber leaves set the scene for his departure. I am at peace with what is taking place, I stare at…

Before I could talk, he cooed and gave me toys that he then took away when our mother wasn’t looking; later he gave me candy that I wasn’t supposed to eat.  When we were a little older, he pushed me in the swing, twice, and then he walked away before I could even get going good.  All our friends remember the time he took up for me when a couple of girls teased me one day after school, but what they don’t know is that when we got home, he yelled at me for something I didn’t understand.  When…

The Malaise is an artist? The Malaise is the rot of a world and I am inside him, and he's telling me he's an artist?

"My friend, I'll explain," Cab Calloway said, "let's make ourselves comfortable here--" and like that we were seated in comfortable chairs by a fire, snifters of brandy in hand in an old English club looking out mullioned windows as rain fell on "all the damn people," the reason such clubs were invented...

Cab smiled, looked up at the ceiling and said,…

Eleanor was 39-years-old - just 23 days, 16 hours, and 451 minutes shy of turning 40. She stared at an old picture of herself in her wedding…

The old boathouse smells of dampness, tar and forlorn semen. It was our special place when we courted, if the word can be used for the type of rambunctious shagging we used to indulge in then.

A secret rendez-vous where we would surrender all dignity for a few moments' pleasure, an escape from a vaguely gentil and utterly boring suburban life. It was our nest, our den. Then you got pregnant and refused both me and the child,…

From where I lay the reservoir glistened in the sunlight it could have been the edge of an ocean from this awkward angle. I tried to lift my head thinking maybe I should get up but I was still dazed and not entirely sure how I had ended up in this beautiful place surrounded by all this white stone and water. I was wet and thought I was lying too close to the waters edge so maybe I really should try and get up otherwise I might drown, but the water felt warm and I started to drift in and out…