I’ll never forget the feeling of falling, endlessly falling. I was lying in my room, bed oriented toward the door. I felt bigger than normal, as if I was expanding, slowly but inevitably turning into Rabelais’ Gargantua. The loneliness was deep, almost impenetrable. I looked out at the room around…
Leave a CommentMonth: February 2019
We were sure the cops were going to take us in. I kept going over in my head how I’d get out. I had no family in town I could call for bail. I had nothing in my bank account, no friends who had more than a few bucks in…
Leave a CommentThe bunk bed’s time was up. Nick is 16 now and has moved into the back room. He uses the bed in there that we once kept for guests. He left behind him all the toys, projects, books, and models he paid attention to as a child. In his new…
Leave a CommentWriting a poem is like taking out a pair of pliers, choosing a tooth, and yanking it right out my jaw. It’s a process wherein low-level pain builds into smarts I can’t ignore anymore. I don’t want to do it. I resist the impulse. I dawdle and hesitate. Then, all…
Leave a CommentBill, I received your note yesterday, and it was a great pleasure. I’m glad your getting some reading in and the number of volumes you’ve been able to consume. I would like to read some of the things you’re into. Except the Harry Potter books. They drive me crazy and…
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