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WETLAND BRAVADO
He was the smallest, thatis what drew you to him.Still, he had a certain bravadoa serious strut to his walk.Perhaps it was becausehis father was there, a protectorin part, in another part a challenge.He knew his mother was lookingso it became a matter of pride.He could imagine himselfa father one day, his own childrentrailing behind…
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FATHER AND SON
We sat in the small boat,the motor still, drifting downstream,our lines in the water, the bobbersdancing in the morning breeze. He smiled, proud that we weredoing this together, he who knewless about fishing than I, his son,and I knowing next to nothing. I kept casting into the weeds,hoping they would tangle myline, free the worm…
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NEATNESS COUNTS
Ice, he said, is clearly an inventionof Satan, the ice cube a scaled downversion of that corner of hell of whichno one ever speaks, so little known. And stop and think, we got by wellfor eons without a cube of ice, unlesswith blade we chipped it froma nearby glacier or left water outin the dead…
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NOM
He is fond of the name Alejandro Carlos Ernesto Rodrigo Guttierez. The fact is he loves the name. He knows it has a certain nobility to it. It embodies and conveys strength and character. It is a source of pride and great satisfaction. The name makes him taller, bolder. There is so much in a…
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TENT CITY
From my window on the twenty-sixth floor they appear as so many blue roofs, arranged in small villages in Shinjuku-Chuo Park below. At 6:30 in the morning many older Japanese gather in sweater vests and hats despite the humidity to perform the tai chi ritual. Nearby hands and feet emerge from blue tarp tents crammed…
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an old writer and his words 