The Day Off 4am: The smell of burnt toast awakens me. Is Matt drunk-cooking again? Is that a fan I hear down there, still faintly going? Will it be nasty-cold in the kitchen? I make a move to check. First, warm pants. Yesterday’s double black stretchies will do, underwear still in, just as I had… Continue reading The Day Off: 4am
She says, “Open your bag,” and plunders the grapefruit box. Six or seven grapefruit go right on top the banana. Another line of cans. “No thank you, no thank you, no thank you,” I say to the diced tomatoes, wheat pasta and khaki frosted cupcakes. “No sweets?”
It's not a glamorous place to become a healer/poet. It’s neither east, nor west in the lower peninsula. Even to say peninsula gives you the idea of water nearby, but Eaton County, Michigan isn’t the place to find much of that. It’s undulating country sides-- ‘hilly’ may be too extreme a description. To the settlers… Continue reading Eaton County Mammal
Will was too busy after all to attend me in Newcastle. I museum-delved without him to see a marble statue visible though the window. Lovers entwined, ecstatic kiss. Every angle a blissful depiction. Feeling worse, I exit to the sloping street. Wander, wander, wander. Then a barrel-shaped wagon on a pedestrian triangle. Bright colors, purple red,… Continue reading Gypsy Wagon
Yet I still felt small and contracted the further east we got. Maybe the hills were closer together. Maybe I was nervous
Jimmy scoffed, and kept pummeling me with his story...
There was a lovely woman in Kirkwall, on my honeymoon with Scott in Orkney. I have one photo of her, and I remember her name being “Barbara.” She wore a red beret, large brown clogs and sweatpants. Typical of the acquaintances we easily made, she was from California. She had wanted to live in Orkney for… Continue reading Timeless Orkney