...Joan Didion once described keepers of private notebooks as “children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss”
A Call
“Ah, nothing’s really wrong, you know. I was just watching the fireworks with my friends and, you know, thinking about how that’s another year down and… I don’t know, every year I come back here and do all the same things, see all the same people; it’s like this place is standing still. But not really, because whenever I come back the town’s a little more run-down, my friends are a bit older, the stuff we do is a bit less enjoyable. Everything’s just fading or something, I don’t know.”
Spring Nocturne, April 2022; Poissons (Sans Pains), Avec Du Vert, Etc. (upon Picasso’s Night Fishing in Antibes, 1939); Lush Life; Go Fish
It’s still sleeping-off the hoarfrost, heat drying wet night air, brute & fowl tucked into dwarf cottonwood, chollla...
Whatever Happened to American Standard?
That had been a year ago and I asked to go back to general assignment reporting. Eventually they let me and there I was in my 40s doing what I’d first done in my 20s, filling a shrinking news hole from a shrunken newsroom for a paper with a dwindling readership competing against bloggers.
Still, ‘Waiting for Godot’; Secret Road; Falling in Pair
To come, and Grow green The vineyards. To bless, and Swell the grapes To the core.
A Conversation Between a Scorned Mistress and a Useless Widow; Stone Fruit; Mary Janes; Five Stages of the Moon
I. I am the scorned mistress, says the scorned mistress nakedly. She gives up the brilliant golden burnish of girlhood in the time it takes for the motel bathwater to run dry.