Monthly Archives: June 2012

What the Road Wakes #ontheroad #summertime

I haven’t forgotten, but I’d be lying if I said I remembered right away. It was confusing. I remember that. And now, after thinking, I remember the police and wondering what you were so afraid of. I always want to … Continue reading

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Prayer of my heart in June.

My heart is a castle on water, His promises are true when I wake. I am dark and lovely as a shadow, He is found in the caverns by the sea. My hope is a dove before storm breaks. My … Continue reading

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Drive.

  Oregon drove through me,  green and thick, a thousand flashes of God’s brown bark stretching toward himself.  The horses pushed their red bodies toward  the fence where I watched.  I am always watching for the horses  while the road … Continue reading

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Los Angeles

LA lives in a bachelor pad, clusters of civilization sprawled like laundry in a sparsely furnished apartment. Buildings and highways next to desert so barren there are no roads through it. LA has a state of the art kitchen but … Continue reading

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Ohio

Ohio has a coastline that snakes thinner than its five lane highways. I had no idea. The houses are square, two stories, peaked roofs, close together as teeth with full green trees gumming between them. The airport is clean and … Continue reading

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Being Mono

I am tired of being mono. This tired again and again and the slow low buzz of an outgoing call that never made it to the receiver. It’s called the kissing disease but that was back in college when drinks … Continue reading

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Eulogy.

I have woken up with the sun underneath me. The walls of my room are red brick. In the beginning static of summer air ripe with storm, I wait for a vision in Philly. Who will write my eulogy? I … Continue reading

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History

The ocean being alone or not knowing what to say is the same thing alright let’s start over from the beginning. I was born in a room with no windows. The water surrounded the island. I fell in love with … Continue reading

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Arrival.

The rest of the ride was in silence. Except for the occasional shift of my bag. And then the french woman behind me took a call. I imagined it was a happy occasion, her voice was soft and her breathing … Continue reading

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Passenger.

I cannot unwrite what has been told by history. Moving forward along the Hudson, in the second to last car, I think about my grandfather. His tenement on East 51st was evacuated when the U.N. was being built. My roommate … Continue reading

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