Enforcing the Line
Trisha takes a break from work—at home, in her own safe place. She meets with me outside her home, in my camper trailer. She calls it cozy and homey. My dogs and cats pile on top of her. We start...
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Trisha takes a break from work—at home, in her own safe place. She meets with me outside her home, in my camper trailer. She calls it cozy and homey. My dogs and cats pile on top of her. We start...
Read More →“What is it?” I had just unwrapped a wedding gift sent by my cousin Barbara. A filigreed silver railing surrounded a padded surface four or five inches in diameter. Eventually I learned it was a wine bottle coaster, meant to...
Read More →Every archive is a sepulchre erected upon the debris of what was never permitted inscription. It does not simply preserve; it intercedes—selecting, suppressing, sanctifying some narratives while consigning others to the oblivion of unutterance. The question is not what it...
Read More →At the hospital, the nurse paused my husband’s gurney at the kissing corner, where, drug-sleepy, he tipped his head toward me for a peck. The nurse said I would see him in a few hours. I’d slid into November happy...
Read More →Ray and Eva sang and yodeled their way on radio stations all through the Middle-Atlantic States, from Virginia through Ohio, in a two-door tan sedan, stopping to plink at bean cans with .22 rifles after they had dined from them...
Read More →Men were very fond of their time alone underground. They returned from work. They had supper. They went downstairs and talked about things their wives and kids would not be allowed to find out. It was dictatorship communism and we...
Read More →Radiator ReadingWord Count 672 I sat in the little red-bricked library by the train tracks in Vermilion, Ohio, listening to the steam pipes in the radiator and watching engine smoke from the yards through an almost-frosted-over window while others did...
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