Blog Updates

Veteran bloggers, I don’t know how you do it. Seriously, what is your secret? Is there a special coffee, or a motivational book that keeps you writing with the regularity of Metamucil? I find myself returning from yet another long absence on this blog. I have not been inactive. Other projects have consumed my time (more updates on those later!), as well as many life developments: buying a house; new work contracts; travel. But there have been as many distractions and pits of deep despair that prevent me from writing, especially concerning the hateful direction my country, the USA, is taking.

I had always been taught that good prevails, that there is light even in darkness, and that comeuppance is a real tool of fate. Continue reading

Sisyphus’ Content

The prairie is vast, flax seed blooming from your toes to the horizon. Blue touching blue, a union. Incurable sweetness in your lungs. This would be a good death, you think. It’s peaceful. It’s pure.

But you move on.

The challenge of a hill and the pleasure of a valley – the arc between your shoulder blade and spine – marks a preferred route through the blazed trees. There’s pleasure in a climb. Your lungs sigh with exertion. Not all labor is toil, you say as your calves grow lean and strong and your back straightens towards the sun.

Urban Decay

There are more ghosts than people here. The past has pushed us out.

Gentrified by poltergeists, the city renames itself “Nostalgia You’ll Never Recapture.”

Skyscrapers like headstones. Car horns like dirges.

We spirit westward, far from here, in search of hills without cairns.

In search of homes unhaunted.

In search of spaces for life to begin.

Just Enough

He writes ten pages to arrive at a single punchline. Who needs that much setup?

Who has time?

We have never lost anything we truly needed.

We have never felt full eating only air.

 

Ghost with a Cigarette

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This part of the walk always gives me the creeps, but my dog pulls behind the circle of apartment houses, back at the edge of the creek, with no regard for my fears. Animals are supposed to be more attuned to the spirit world, right? So if there’s something out there, she would know. This is what I tell myself as she takes a leisurely squat next to the loquat. I ready a plastic bag, and just as it closes around the warm excretion steaming into the night air, I hear it. Click. Whiff. Continue reading

Dumb Beasts

We reincarnate as beasts more and more cruel. Each pass through fate’s transmogrifier sharpens our claws, sour hunter’s instincts. Why say goodbye when I’ll see you again, your canines extended down below your jaw? Fur matted, dripping blood either yours or mine. It makes no difference. They’re practically the same now. We’re practically the same dumb beasts, playing on inherited senses. Driven by the compulsion to bite, kill, feed. I feel the coiling of your limbs burning in my own sinew, can sense your strike but not prevent it. Then around again through kill, rebirth. Wicked jaws bared, murders stacked.

 

Tribes: Note 8

20171003_21b5fdf556_oShe remembered the feeling, like drinking cold water too fast. Unsure if it’ll come back up, but regretting the indulgence that led to this moment. Gut full of guilt. Why did she always overreact when it came to Liam? Why wasn’t she allowed to be happy? These are the questions ghosts will ask you when you’re down, when you’ve slept the night in your closet then schlepped to work still hungover, eyes weighty and puffed. The haunted body hurts, rumbling in the joints, ice pick in the stomach. Sylvia crossed the bridge and thought of Noah, nice Noah who had thought to invite her anywhere.

Continue reading