Once a year, around the holidays, it becomes too much. I crawl in my tweet, cradle my miniature man like my mom used to me. I miss you, I’ll say.… Continue Reading
This was nothing like how I knew the ditch water reason for Lobo’s summer sores, how every summer he got the sores and every summer the ditches filled with water. I knew about that now.… Continue Reading
After the fact, I think it’s normal to catalog the things I didn’t have time to say to you. This kind of thinking forms a common self-soothing refrain: oh, yes, everyone must feel this way. Move along, rubberneckers. No tragedy here. … Continue Reading
I ruled the underworld for too long. I am bored, & wish to come home, retire. There is little for me to do; it’s hell on earth & I had nothing to do with it. I blame God (He was never a good boss) for failing humanity. Yes, I know the rules: I forgive him. Can I please come home?… Continue Reading
Elvis is singing to me. Straight into my soul. He knows all about Sharon, how shit school is, how tough it is being a weirdo, with a brain exploding with new ideas, like burying pennies in the vegetable garden and digging them up a year later when they’re worth thousands of pounds as treasure. Elvis knows, and I know, that our friendship is our destiny.… Continue Reading
He came to know home was about time, not place. Before saying goodbye, his slippage stark, The Thinker with Rodin’s muscle wasted, eyes sad when not closed, close to warm blood and nerves’ end, he hoarsely spoke of that girl.… Continue Reading
I wondered if I was like him. Even if I loved my children and my wife, it didn’t matter, because I had already abandoned my first family in my own way. Just like him. I studied the picture of Dad again. I just wanted him to turn toward the camera and look my way one time.… Continue Reading
The other day my wife bought a painting at a thrift store. It’s a fish. It’s a fish underwater. It’s really a good painting. It’s nice. It’s a goldfish. It’s the idea of a goldfish, it’s blurry like you were underwater with the fish. It’s hard to make it out, but the second you look at it, you know it’s a goldfish, and it looks straight out at you.… Continue Reading
When the satellite was young, it thought only of the way bluegreen oceans slid against sandy brown shores and of how river arteries sliced through dense forest sheen like a lizard darting in haphazard lines though, of course, the satellite had never seen a lizard but it had seen life.… Continue Reading
“Like death, the violence was just where the thing ended,” Grandma said. “Your grandpa loved the training, the starving, the heat, the cold, the purpose. I know his least favorite part was the violence.”… Continue Reading