Deconstruction

Deconstruction It is the vibration that wakes us.  A shudder that jostles the bed just enough to register in our synapses that something is unusual. We exchange a look, our eyes crusted with sleep and too much binge TV. “Probably a tremor,” you mutter and roll away from me. “Yeah,” I mumble.  However, I’m not Read More …

Dark Side of the Moon

Is this just the dark phase of the moon, the part of the cycle when all light wanes and is gone, a new moon basking in the glory of the sun without tolerating our dusky shadow?  Or is it the darkness before the waxing, the building up again of the light? And how dark will Read More …

The Blanket

The house smells amazing, she thinks, stepping back into its warmth after a trip into the cold to throw out the trash.  And I did this, I created this…(inhale) yum.   The aroma, a blend of meatloaf and silky gingered zucchini soup, is active memory.  It is a blanket woven both from childhood – threads of Read More …

Vishudda

“But it’s stuck in my throat!” the child wails and coughs in that exaggerated manner of preschoolers.  She wants to roll her eyes. Resists. Sighs heavily, instead. She knows what is crawling its way up from her child’s throat.  Her head dismisses it as a fit.  Her heart knows the thing is not that dramatic or Read More …

Stars

The problem with pressing your face all day into that little thingy – something they certainly don’t tell you in the fine print – is that it rots out your neck and back. Trust me, you will have a hump of fused vertebrae like a 90-year-old by the time you’re 40. Then even if you wanted Read More …

Wendigo

It is here. Out there in starless cold. Outside the window, see? No! Don’t draw the shade! It already knows. Don’t you hear that? Glass panes rattle under its breath, fouled with decay. It smelled me. From afar, over lake ice and valleys scrubbed of snow by bitter winds sweeping endlessly from the North– It is Read More …

Roads

“Go here or there or there?” the young man asks.   He jabs a finger at the map on his lap. “It seems to me,” the old man begins, “that you have cluttered up that head of yours.” “But which way?” “Which way do you want to go?” “All of them.” “Humph.” The old man takes Read More …

The Tree House (the Shed formerly known as “She”)

There once was a boy who loved a girl.  One day he gave her a book filled with many home projects, both large and small, that could make her life beautiful. “Whichever project you chose, I will build for you,” he said. The girl looked through the book.  But her heart, blinded by the expectation of bath Read More …

The Dig

The Writer:  Why are you hovering at my desk? IR*:  You’re fifteen minutes late. The Writer:  And? How did you know I was coming back today — IR:  — You’re late is all.  Where’ve you been? The Writer:  You’ve never heard of a thing called privacy? Huh? IR (blank stare) The Writer (sigh, plops down laptop Read More …

The Muse

HE arrives and is all like Where is my café? What is this – merda on my chair? And he shoves my books and phone from the couch to the floor.  Plops down in a purple Boho huff.  And I’m all giddy anticipation, a groupie, just staring.  He slips off his aviator sunglasses, futzes with his man bun.   I’m still gawking.  Until he Read More …