To My Father (Littler Catepillars, we Sleep)The smells of my childhood:Sawdust, cedar, salmon pink and burning in our nostrils.The fabrics; soft flannel, wool, plaid.The denim of my father's jacket on my cheek, carrying me from the car to bed.Little children, we sleep.The gentle buzz of the sander beneath the floor boards, the thudding of the compressorAnd faintly we drift to the sounds of my father's merry whistle, his humble humming Coming up from the vents.Snuggly we sleep, Papa's little caterpillars, each one in the cocoon he made for us.Dreaming of the carpenter's cacophony, the spinning wood of father's lathe spin before us in our dreams.A heavy hand, callous
lemonwe walk down the streetsof a city named after an emerald.a breeze floats by and for a moment your hair lifts off your shoulder.the way it doesn't touch you,i want to touch you.there are traces of lemon in your light,a vague sense of mint on your fingertips.the way honey tastesdrifts inside your shirt.entering the citywalking calmly while the light fallsis like listening to your voice,like waiting at the bell by the riverfor a clamoring to do justiceto the patterns on the water.the way the bells never endi want to brush my hand against yours.the way you drop lemon into your wateri want to live.
This is How I Kill MyselfWhen I was younger,before I was a person,I was not supposed to be born.The doctors saidI would have to be removed,I was a danger to myselfand my mother.The doctors saidI wasn't going to make it.I think that maybethis might have been God's way of trying to fixhis mistake. He saw that whathe had made was not good.But I had to have my way,as I always have. And he letme have my way, as he always has.The undeniable factthat I was not supposed to be born seems like much more than a coincidencewhen I haven't done a singlething right since.-You told me that the only thingstanding in my way is me,It took me so long t
Renga Tree: Parting pulling away —tail lights linger in a puddle
It's empty in the valley of your heart.Mike always looked at least twice before crossing at 4th Street and 10th Avenue. Not only was there a Mormon church nearby, 4th took a rather sharp curve just before the light, and because it was a major road, the light tended to be green, so people always took it too fast. City planning at its finest right there. He was waiting for the light to change when he saw the man just standing in the road, where oncoming traffic wouldn’t see him until it was too late.It was tempting to just watch it happen, because the man looked like he was waiting anywhere else, provided he waited with his eyes closed and arms slightly spread out. However, without a second thought, Mike brushed his fingertips across the hourglass inside his right wrist and sprinted across the street. It had been a couple of years since he’d played football in high school, but he dodged the frozen cars and tackled the man, sending them both stumbling toward the curb just as time resumed around them. Mike pushed t
The AntagonistI was editing an obituary for our local paper when the stranger walked in. He had that slick-haired, painted smile facade that aggravated me to no end. I tried to avert my gaze so as to avoid unwanted attention but like all his kind, he seemed to sense it. I quickly looked back at my computer screen, hoping against hope that he would not try to talk to me.At first I thought that luck had prevailed but then a pin-striped arm draped itself over the top of my monitor. "She loved you, ya know.""Excuse me?""Your wife, the dead chick. She really did."I must have stared at him for an eternity. I'm still not sure how I wound up with my hands on his throat. Maybe time is scared of angry people. "What do you know about my wife." It felt like the words were wild animals clamoring to escape through my teeth. The man did not seem in the least put off by either the rough handling or my barely restrained rage. Instead he stared somberly into my eyes, then gently pulled my hands away from h
the first day of springyou are new in the way flowers are new:brilliant green, soft purple,the good smell of rain and soil.let the miserable winter windchase its own tail for a while;there’s something beautifulwonderfulmineat the end of a sunlit driveway.
our firstI have tended three summers of sticky okraand watched the jalapenos shrivel to mulch,shaped the grass into cups for my knees,watched bees eddy around my head.It's still deep enough in summer for me to hopeso I kneel, wrist deep in a watermelon,pulling pulp fat with seeds from the middle.When it takes - when I take - when you takehold of me, like a sudden embedding,I lose my balance, drop my fruit and my spoon,startle the crows back onto their perches.Was it enough to give the earth my blood for so long?I get you, and though I know I've given enough(my father's ashes help the squash to bloom)you are so much to fulfi
Sun Road Ch. 8 “My name is Redemption,” the young man whispered to himself outside the door. “The past is behind us, the future is nigh. My name is Redemption, and the people have never loved another like they do me. I have nothing to fear.” He breathed in deeply the sweet musky smell of candles and the lacquer on polished wood, and then he opened the door. The room was broad, too broad for the single furnace by the wall opposite to the door. The firelight could not reach the corners and far ends, leaving most of the room in shadow. Around the fireplace were several carved wooden chairs and an elegant coffee table, cast half in da
l'appel du videlet me intensify the outside for you to nullify the agony in your head drink up, shoot up, snort it all and i'll watch eagerly as your pupils contract, veins constrict as it sets in, and then the concentration, oversaturation of color and sensation, the distortion of time and of your entire reality- isn't this better than dreaming?on stimulants, everything is wonderful the bricks are beautiful until you hit them the bruises are gorgeous until you remember the pain and even then, they're just colors blooming upon your skinpause for a moment of clarity retreat from waking reverie and rediscover the mess you're in- an instant
alive, but not livingYou won't feel a thing.I know these are lies. I know that death isn't something to be taken lightly, but I can't bring myself to wrap it in a blanket of philosophy and deep meaning and profound words -- because it's death and once you're dead, you won't be around any longer to give a damn.My mother brushes her fingers tentatively through my hair and I shy away from her touch. Her skin is like ice, especially in this hospital room where the heaters aren't working. Or maybe they are, and my body is giving my nervousness away through shaking fingers and clammy palms.The door creaks open and despite those months of worrying and fretting ove
The Horizon and the ShorelineI saw you in the ocean, riding waves like seaweed leaves.And you kept your arms in motionkept waving out to me.I blew a kiss goodbye,and stayed to watch you leave.For the tide's a perfect gentleman, he'll take you out to sea.
napo day 25: paradelle for the confused murdererparadelle for the confused murdererorwhy the paradelle is Kengo's favorite fixed formThe ground is rusted brown with blood.The ground is rusted brown with blood.I killed him myself.I killed him myself.Myself, brown with blood. Is the ground--I killed him -- rusted?Yes, his body is laying right here.Yes, his body is laying right here.What do you mean, breathing?What do you mean, breathing?Right, you do mean his body. What ishere? Yes, laying. Breathing?I stabbed him with my knife.I stabbed him with my knife.It got caught in his throat.It got caught in his throat.I got caught with my knife --it stabbed him -- in his throa
There's more than one happy ever afterSlowly the snow starts to melt and all around them the long overdue springs begins to take over.They stand at the crest of one of the many hills surrounding the kingdom and watch as patches of green erupt between mounds of snow and ice along with dainty snow drops and early daffodils. To the North the Great Forest starts to bloom and the bare black branches sprout tiny green buds and the evergreens shed the quickly melting snow from their needles and the sky is brilliantly blue for the first time in what seems like forever.Shifting the reins on his horse, the Prince glances towards the hills to the east. The Queen's old castle lays in smo
Give Her The MoonThey lay in the grass, gazing at the stars. They may have been an arm’s breadth away from each other, but here they were closer than they ever were. When they lay in the grass, looking into the glinting eyes of the night sky and talking – that was where they were the most at home. It didn’t matter how trivial their conversations were, how long they went on or if they said just the right words, as long as they were talking to each other… everything was alright.That’s when she said it. He asked her what he could do – what he could give her – to prove himself, so that they might truly be together inst
Apartment 301Apartment 301 Blue smoke hung gloomily over the north side, pouring out of refineries which had nearly become obsolete not so long ago, in the good old days. Gord Bondarchuk had lived in Edmonton all his seventy-two years, and he could remember a time when fusion power was coming to save the day, when hover cars had begun to crisscross the sky, and when space planes were fast becoming the best and safest way to travel. He could not for the life of him, however, remember a time when living on any one of the little offshoots of 118th Avenue was not miserable and intimidating. Gord sat in his ancient rocking chair—the one he kept hidde
Cindereric Once upon a time, there lived a poor boy named Eric who was completely dependent upon his stepbrothers and stepfather. After his mother died, there had been no one to take care of him, so reluctantly, they took him in. A real shame, too. They were so cruel to Eric, teasing him and making him work every day. In fact, he got so dirty they called him Cindereric. What were the names of his relations, you ask? They were – well, that’s not important. This story is about Eric, not them. It’d be absolutely horrible if it were written about them. This story, on the other hand, is not, so there you are. One day, a page from the castle arrived, bringing with him the news of Princess Adriana’s latest ball. Instead of a private party to which only the elite were invited, this ball was open to all eligible young men could attend. "This time,” confided the page, wiggling his eyebro
The Ballad of MulanThe sound of weaving, woman's chore--Mulan weaves on before the door.But now the shuttle's noise is drownedBy Daughter Mulan's sighing sound."Who, my girl, is in your thought?What memory has your mind caught?""No one is in Mulan's thought,No memory has Mulan caught.The night before, I saw the postThe Khan sent out to build his host.In scrolls of twelve did they proclaimThe characters of Father's name.But Father has no eldest son,And Brother's not the eldest one.So I shall buy a saddled horseTo take his place among the force."Now to the East for valiant steed!Now to the West for saddle's need!Now to the South to take the
Tex-Mex and BarbecueI should begin by pointing out that I am neurotic. Let me reiterate: I am neurotic. It is said that all of a person's problems, foibles and neurosis can be traced back to a specific instance in one's childhood: seeing a tragic car wreck, having a near death experience, and so on. I ate some bad enchiladas.I was young, seven or eight years old, and we had gone out to eat at a local restaurant, Willie's Tex-Mex and Barbecue. No one knew who Willie was, or why he came to own a restaurant staffed only by illegals which served only Tex-Mex and nothing even resembling barbecue, and yet, no one really gave it much thought. For my family, ma
Unclassified Survival GuideHOW TO CREATE A HAUNTED TREE1. Marry someone you don't love. If you are already in a loveless marriage, you can skip this step.2. Bring up the subject of moving with your spouse. Prepare a list or reasons you want to move. Pick someplace very far away, ideally in another country. Be firm but not impatient, do not seem over eager. Tie up any loose ends, ship possessions ahead and be ready to leave at a moment's notice. Expect this step to take some time.3. Create a garden in the backyard. Mention to your spouse how relaxing gardening is, and point out that it will raise the value of your home. If you do not have a yard, locate a s
3.03'FUCK. YOU!' -The words exploded out of my chest and I realized I didn’t know at all how angry I’d been until they were out of me. I hadn’t understood that he was poisoning me. My exclamation hung there in the silence, and before I’d even registered what had happened, I was launching myself at him, not caring about the broken glass or the burning books or anything but the cocking of my fist and the sound of my knuckles breaking across his jaw like a shotgun blast.
Sta.sh
