January 07, 2021
In a low-rent casino playing slots, hunched, making out meaning in glyphs. Winning, I can't cash out. There's a line behind me, someone yells to hurry but I'm learning and say 'learning.' And someone mouths back 'learning.' The machine starts throwing coins. We know what the other means. [Read the previous non sequitur] [Read...
January 07, 2021
Or the idea of how he stands outside baggage, a pallbearer on smoke break, one hand in his pocket. I am trying to hone my posture, waiting for someone, pulled in various directions. Everything turns blue the longer I look. I never get tired of watching unclaimed bags ride the carousel. Clouds beyond tall windows become people. My parents ride a...
January 06, 2021
About how crows know more than we'll ever. Daily, I walk curb lines. A quarrel of crows on the lawn, down from bare branches. A hawk in mid-dive, a hole forms in my yard. My penpal writes the world falls into shadow. Her study of sinkholes goes on and on. [Read the previous non sequitur] [Read the next] ...
January 06, 2021
In which a voice says a hatch opens, something from the dream sticks around. We are trying to wrangle chickens, a stray cat, a beagle slips through a hole in the fencing. The neighbor's dog walks through the side yard. [Read the next non sequitur] ...
April 26, 2018
Years ago, a mother at a Portland-area middle school asked me to run a writing workshop. She wanted her daughter to have a creative outlet beyond what the school day provided. More than a decade later, the writing workshops continue to help young people sort out their worlds, escape into their craft, and step forward to...