#AmericanWriters
This blind man, an old friend of my wife’s, he was on his way to spend the night. His wife had died. So he was visiting the dead wife’s relatives in Connecticut. He called my wife from ...
Cool summer nights. Windows open. Lamps burning. Fruit in the bowl. And your head on my shoulder.
It’s August and I have not Read a book in six months except something called The Retre… by Caulaincourt. Nevertheless, I am happy
Long before he thought of his own… my dad said he wanted to lie close to his parents. He missed them so after they went away. He said this enough that my mother…
On the Columbia River near Vanta… Washington, we fished for whitefis… in the winter months; my dad, Swed… Mr. Lindgren-and me. They used b… pencil-length sinkers, red, yellow…
She serves me a piece of it a few… out of the oven. A little steam ri… from the slits on top. Sugar and s… cinnamon - burned into the crust. But she’s wearing these dark glass…
By the time I came around to feel… and woke up, moonlight flooded the room. My arm lay paral… propped up like an old anchor unde… your back. You were in a dream,
It’s what the kids nowadays call w… like clouds from his lips. He hope… comes along tonight, or calls to a… Help is what he’s most short on to… A storm thrashes outside. Heavy s…
This morning was something. A lit… lay on the ground. The sun floated… blue sky. The sea was blue, and bl… as far as the eye could see. Scarcely a ripple. Calm. I dresse…
He said it doesn’t look good he said it looks bad in fact real… he said I counted thirty-two of th… I quit counting them I said I’m glad I wouldn’t want t…
A few minutes ago, I stepped onto… of the house. From there I could… and everything that’s happened to… It was hot and still. The tide wa… No birds sang. As I leaned agains…
Fear of seeing a police car pull i… Fear of falling asleep at night. Fear of not falling asleep. Fear of the past rising up. Fear of the present taking flight.
Early one Sunday morning everythi… the child’s canopy bed and vanity… the sofa, end tables and lamps, bo… of assorted books and records. We… kitchen items, a clock radio, hang…
So early it’s still almost dark ou… I’m near the window with coffee, and the usual early morning stuff that passes for thought. When I see the boy and his friend
These fish have no eyes these silver fish that come to me… scattering their roe and milt in the pockets of my brain. But there’s one that comes—