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Category: Reading
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AFTERWORD A Found Poem in Memory of Anthony Bourdain I will always carry my heart around, my entanglementsa big room free of country, and most certainties.My dreams travel in strange beauty, telling me what to do —if I can relax or drink in fully, or if I have been comforted.Beyond normal human itinerary, I don’t…
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TITANIC REVISITED You won’t find bodies…. You won’t find skeletons…. What anybody who’s explored the wreck finds is pairs of shoes. – James Cameron, discussing 20 more years of research after the movie, Titanic The camera shows a pair of women’s shoes, a pair of girls’ shoes, a hand mirror. A clock, once only thought…
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Dwelled Planet I thought at one point, if you could be up in heaven, this is how you would see the planet. And then I dwelled on that and said, no, it’s more beautiful than that. This is what heaven must look like. I think of our planet as a paradise. We are very…
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Here’s a poem I wrote more than several years ago around this time of year. I’m sharing it in honor of St. Patrick’s Day. WHISKEY-PROOF Not because I need its deep heat, or mindful spice − it’s not replenishing I want but something more potent, bottled up and dangerous − to singe the sweetness…
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We are what we eat, we know; but more, we are what we feed ourselves. This pertains to far more than food. Our surroundings are our fuel. Our family members, people we befriend, people we love, what we read, watch, listen to, where we live, where we travel, what we run into and what we…
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“We have no idea what we don’t know, or what we’ll eventually learn, or what might be true despite our perpetual inability to comprehend what that truth is.” -But What If We’re Wrong?: Thinking About the Present as If It Were the Past by Chuck Klosterman That statement might seem gloomy to some, but I…
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Some nights, I sit for hours watching the backyard fence, what golden light it holds still for a moment as, on the other side, cars rush by. The fence posts seem to catch and release each car, like sheet by sheet of animation drawings. Headlights gush open each framed space and proceed up the street,…
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Driving back from St. Louis, I noticed a sign advertising an “exclusive” neighborhood: lakeside chalets set apart from the surrounding communities. While the photo of the area looked rustic, wooded and serene, I couldn’t get past the word, exclusive. I thought of scarcity, something closed. Then I thought of its opposite: inclusive, abundance, something open.…
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Three years ago last night, or sometime before that night, someone, in the company of an adorable, tiny, filthy, ear-mite-ridden, wounded-lip kitten, left that kitten – the veterinarian would later presume − in front of a neighborhood. The kitten spent at least Halloween night on his own in a world full of cars and kids…
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After an extra slippery shower soap went on a sudden journey knocking over a liter of shampoo onto my foot, for the past two weeks I’ve had a very sore toe. I can move it, so I don’t think it’s broken, but it’s whatever is closest to that, because it hurts. I’ve tried to stay…
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