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NIGHT PASSING, MORNING REINCARNATE
The Buddha died peacefully in his sleep last night in the Emergency Room of Cook County Hospital, his passing was noted by a surgical resident passing by the partially drawn curtain en route to the Doctor’s Lounge after two hours of meatball surgery on a young man with multiple gunshot wounds who bled out anyway…
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IN MEMORIUM: NAMELESS ONE
My muse drowned in a torrent of words. I buried her on page 243 of War and Peace. Kafka read the eulogy, while Ferlinghetti dozed in the third pew. I sat Shiva for a week and the guests brought endless casseroles of Westlake, Cornwell and Kellerman. I waited for Ondaatje to sooth my grief, but…
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SCENES FROM A MURDER TRIAL (A PLAY WITHOUT ACTORS): ACT III
On December 14, 1992, a shooting occurred at Simon’s Rock College. At around 10:30 pm, Wayne Lo, a student at the school, shot and killed one student and one professor, and wounded three students and a security guard. His SKS rifle soon jammed and Lo later surrendered to authorities without further incident. OBSTANTE VERDICTO “In the…
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SCENES FROM A MURDER TRIAL (A PLAY WITHOUT ACTORS): ACT II
On December 14, 1992, a shooting occurred at Simon’s Rock College. At around 10:30 pm, Wayne Lo, a student at the school, shot and killed one student and one professor, and wounded three students and a security guard. His SKS rifle soon jammed and Lo later surrendered to authorities without further incident. XXI The court officer…
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SCENES FROM A MURDER TRIAL (A PLAY WITHOUT ACTORS): ACT I
On December 14, 1992, a shooting occurred at Simon’s Rock College. At around 10:30 pm, Wayne Lo, a student at the school, shot and killed one student and one professor, and wounded three students and a security guard. His SKS rifle soon jammed and Lo later surrendered to authorities without further incident. The people killed in…
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THE MESA, MIDNIGHT
The coyotes come down from the Sandia Hills onto the mesa. They are not spirits. They are not totems. They are not tricksters. They are hungry: for a jackrabbit, for a bird, for a small dog wandering too far from a half-lit earthship. They smell the sage, its faint odor carried on the night breeze. …
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SPEAKING IN TONGUES
She said you should try astral projection. I said I have tried transcendental meditation and even a bit of EST. She said that biofeedback was better than most of the drugs she remembered using. I said that tequila took far less practice if you could stand the inevitable hangover. She said she thought that dying…
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ARRIVAL
The lake arrives each morning, just before she opens her eyes. She’s tried to catch it, getting up earlier or later but it was just lapping the shore outside her window each time she first gazed at it. Once she tried to stay up all night, and it clung to the shore despite its desire…
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TRIPTYCH
A triptych hangs in the gallery of memory. Admission is by invitation only. The first panel is a time fogged mirror into which I stare. The adopted image hides behind the tarnished silver. My adopted mother’s voice is heard from a hidden speaker: “You were named after my father.” I want to tape his picture…
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FADED MEMORY
I want to paint O. Henry’s leaf on the wall outside my sister’s window. She won’t be able to see it for the giant maple that obscures her view. Even when it drops its leaves a few always cling in the neverland between green and mulch. And anyway, she says, her neck is always stiff,…
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an old writer and his words 