I was four years old, and we lived on the top floor of a fisherman’s house in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. I could see the ocean from my window, and our landlord often brought us fresh seafood. My father, a USAF radar operator, worked lots of seven day weeks and double shifts because of the Cold […]
The Persistence of Doors Read More »
Who is this person? The one in my mind, Awake or asleep, So gentle, so warm, The one who touches me Completely, For the first time. The mind falls silent, Bowing to heart’s Whispered reply.
Your voice is too friendly,Your smile too inviting,Your laugh too welcoming.Don’t speak.You’re giving these people the wrong idea.Be silent. White powder spread across the table,glass bottles scattered on the floor;the loud men filling the roomgrow more menacing with each snort of cocaine.Such peace for me in his chaotic lifewhen he doesn’t notice me.He reminds me,“Lock
I had a pet otter for about two years when I was growing up in the dusty farming town of Fessenden, North Dakota. His name was Joe and we played together quite a lot. My best friend, Carol, played with him, too. I should mention Joe was imaginary. Carol had a bird named Hi-low who
Growing Up: From Otters to Elvis Read More »
“… the pinnacle of hyenic humor, was the hyena, the classic hyena, that hit too far back while running, would circle madly, snapping and tearing at himself, until he pulled his own intestines out, and then stood there, jerking them out and eating them with relish. “‘Fisi,’ M’Cola would say and shake his head in
Dave Barry, Novelist: The M’cola Perspective Read More »
You know, that’s what my sockeyetrist told me. “Catherine,” he said, “you’ve got a person in you, another person besides you, and that person is all the time telling you, ‘Catherine, you’re no good, Catherine, you can’t do thus and that.’ And you are trying to become yourself, but that
A Bunch of Felonies Read More »