Father He taught me to carefully part the barbed wire fence that bordered the field of sagebrush and jackrabbits, and to never live in a desert, hoping for rain. Continue reading
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Day 55 of 35
The palm tree was dead before I bought the house. Continue reading
Day 54 of 35
It took me this long to fail. There was alcohol and memory involved. I’m uncertain that is grounds for forgiveness. Continue reading
Day 52 of 35
It was January, but not cold enough for coats. My shoulders were bare, I think; or, maybe they weren’t. But, the wind, I know the wind was blowing because I remember it stopping, as if in deference to us both. Continue reading
Day 51 of 35
long day Continue reading
Day 50 of 35
It was January. There was the smell of sulfur in the air, and for weeks earthquakes swarmed the hot springs. One after another they came; Steamboat jerked as if moved just a little lower and to the left each time. The baby kicked. He was under her ribs now, and she worried that there wasn’t … Continue reading
Day 48 of 35
It has been weekend of insults. I’m a bit worn out and haven’t much to write. Let’s hope tomorrow is better. Continue reading
Day 47 of 35
Just go away. Continue reading
Day 46 of 35
I am doing this remotely. From a space not my own. There’s something more to it this way. I am thinking of lovers, recent and gone. It’s always their hands that I crave. The calloused. The soft. I am finishing the gin. I am ready. Continue reading
Day 45 of 35
I am tired of suffering fools. My head hurts from the effort of it. There isn’t much else to say, except I am waiting for a dress the color of blood and dirt to arrive in the mail. Raw silk and full of folds. Continue reading
Untempered Glass 