Vignette
Alfie drove the black Audi up the hillside curves, through the grey dawn and springtime rain, stopping under the still-burning lamps of the Alta Mira. He got out and opened the passenger door. She...
View ArticleTurn it Up
Turn it up. Make it louder. Not through earbuds. Not through headphones. Release it. Give it room to breathe. Let it surround me. I need to feel it in my chest. I want it to rattle my bones. Turn it...
View ArticleMy Bay of San Pablo
The moon is only first quarter, but the tide was low as my bus drove into Seattle. The cool breeze off the Sound brought in that parfum de la mer–a mixture of salt, sea, and tideflat–that sends me a...
View ArticleThat Moment
Yesterday, lying in bed, wishing the sky was brighter, wishing the pre-dawn hours were a bit more advanced, I tried not to wake up. I tried to enjoy the warmth of my fleece blanket and cold air from...
View ArticleVignette 25Mar14
He had not wept, not for years, so when he broke, it was as if a mountainside had cracked and slid down, carrying everything–trees, homes, lives–into the valley below. His rage and frustration burst...
View Article‘Neath
On the third day we found her, lying in the rippling sunlight beneath the sweetgum tree, her brindled fur quilted amongst the swordleaf fronds, her head pillowed by her one white paw. My father’s wish,...
View ArticleVignette 22Oct2014
Autumn’s first storm has hit Seattle, and my commute is packed with sounds not heard since spring. Sheets of rain hiss through parchment leaves. Fat drops splat as they crater sidewalk puddles. Eaves...
View ArticleSong of Spring
The spruce stood tall, a shadowed cone against the cold and dawning morn, a giant sentinel overlooking the crossroads along my route to work. The bus rocked like a ship in rough seas as it rattled into...
View ArticleVignette 12Mar2015
In time, he knew, his transgression would be forgiven (though not forgotten, for during their thirty tumultuous years, his wife had proven the tenacious nature of her memory when it came to remembered...
View ArticleDumpy Old Man Hunt
Yesterday, my wife reached the limit of her patience and dragged me out to shop for new clothes. She thinks I dress like a dumpy old man…which I do because, well, because I am a dumpy old man....
View ArticleChurchill’s Black Dog
Nails clicking on the hardwoods, he pads toward my dawn-chilled room. I see his greyed muzzle poke around the open doorway, black nose wriggling. His old limbs are stiff, but he’s always been like...
View ArticleThe Moon of Morning Mist
Seattle. It is late October, early November, when Dawn puts on her grey scarf and each day arrives in soft focus, born in muffled softness. The edge of the world is only a stone’s throw away. Green...
View ArticleUntil Today
fur of satin midnight she is ever aloof wary silent an island of comportment her tail-wrapped feet situated primly at the boundary of our all-too-human bustle amber cabochons blink in the sunshine...
View ArticleBumper Crop
Knife in hand, I begin my work. The plums are warm from their rest in the summer sun. I select one. Its dark skin, freshly washed, stretches taut over soft flesh. I slice down its back, then prize it...
View ArticleAt the Limit
I walk the wavering limit of sand and sea, the Pacific’s grey serrated edge. The wind, flavored with salt and sun-dried kelp, pushes me, smudging my glasses with briny thumbs. A foam-white gull hunkers...
View ArticleWhen the Dark Trees Sizzle
I walk to work The same hour each day And make a time-lapse film Frame by frame To capture the passing year. Buildings fall into vacant lots, Rise from the rubble. Storms flash overhead. Cars blur past...
View ArticleEnding It
I did not wind the clocks this month. They tick down to silence, measuring out the year’s last hours with ponderous chimes. This New Year’s Eve, the house will be quiet. No television. No dropping...
View ArticleVignette 25Jan17
— I see a silver-lit night, full moon struggling to pierce slate-colored clouds. I see a ghostly crag, pale rocks rising above a dark, heathered moor. I see a woman in blue standing at its summit, bare...
View ArticleVignette 13Mar17: The Beauty of History
We have changed, she and I. The slender, vibrant creatures of decades past are gone. The bright, idealistic hearts of youth have faded. Our eyes are dimmer, our skin more slack. The hair we brush is...
View ArticleDiary of a Head Cold
Thursday: Barbarians at the gate Riders, sir! Enemy advancing! Portcullis down! Drawbridge up! All able bodies to the walls! Defend the city! Heaven help us, they’ve breached our defenses. We’re being...
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