
Melancholia
At first Jacob Illich admired these Americans their casualness, and considered it a sweet nativity. Then he became bored. And then resentful.
At first Jacob Illich admired these Americans their casualness, and considered it a sweet nativity. Then he became bored. And then resentful.
At the Koi pond, she saw clouds floating with coral colored carp. Sky shimmered water. The lace of ice. “It’s beautiful,” she said to no one, because on this cool morning there was no one. No children tugging at her coat telling her they needed to pee, no parent “chaperones”… Read More
The attorney had told Justine she knew it was hard, testifying against your husband. But what does that fancy ass attorney know about hard? Her with her suits and shoes and picture-perfect pantyhose.
When he came home later that night, still a little high, still a little angry, he found a window busted, the TV smashed, and his chair, a run down thing that used to be his Ma’s — nowhere in site.
I could see the sunrise on Tacoma this morning. The volcano best known as Rainier. Snowfields some two hundred miles north were lit peach and pink by the incoming light from a far off star. In between was Loowit. The volcano best known as St. Helens. Moments like that knit… Read More