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SO TO SPEAK
One of the obvious problemswith growing older is the tendencyto begin using phrases you always detestedwhen young: “back in the day,” and it’sequivalents maddened you in your youthand are now a common element of your vernacular. Worse still is the knowledge that the dayswhich you seem to lovingly recallweren’t all that good as you lived…
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PFFFT
As I age now I amaware that the tetherto my earliest memorieshas grown thin, stretchedby time until I know it will,of necessity, soon give way. And so I spend sparemoments trying to sortthrough my life as I recallit, selecting those momentsthat bear the effort of retetheringso that time would be betterserved weakening others. But the…
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EMPTY SACKS WILL NEVER STAND UPRIGHT
There are nightswhen the songof a single cricketcan pull you away from sleep.She says that she has heardthat not all Angels have wingsand neither of themis sure how you would knowif you met a bodhisattva.He searches the mailevery day, for a letterfrom unknown birth parentsbut none of the credit cardshe ought to carryoffers to rebate…
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DICTIONARY
I set out this morningwith my large dictionaryto find the perfect wordto describe the sky, the sunjust peering over the roofof a distant house, the fewclouds aflame in a silent fire. I knew there was a wordfor what I saw in the dictionary,for there is a wordfor everything if you searchlong and hard enough, butafter…
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WRITERS
I was born the same day, ina much later year as Thornton Wilder,a fact that had no impact at allon my life, since I discovered ourcommon birthday long aftermy life’s path was half tread. I read him in my youth, and mustadmit I can recall nothing of whatI read, which I attribute to allthat I…
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BARDLESS
Laertes was supposed to visit mein my dreams last night,but Iago texted that they bothwere suddenly otherwise engaged. There is a strong possibility, of coursethat this was just another instanceof Marlowe trying to wreak havocwith my ever more precious sleep. Tomorrow I will recall none of thisfor the day ereases my dreamsmuch as the sun…
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THE FOG
I speak to my father every week or so our conversations are as long as ever but we are rapidly becoming little more than a skipping record. He mostly recalls my name and the various parts one with the other of us has had rebuilt but even that is quickly slipping into the fog that…
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TIME’S ARROW CURSED
He will be 90 in a few weeks. He doesn’t think this is possible. He says he wasn’t supposed to live this long. He asks again how old he is. You’re still 89, I tell him. He has a relieved look on his face. Then he smiles at me, says, that means you are…
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DREAMS
Dreams are a place where the dead are free to walk about, where they speak in voices barely recalled, but which seem so familiar to the ear. They are willing to engage you in conversations left unfinished, you are always surprised at what they have to say, at how it is not at all what…
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EMPTY SACKS WILL NEVER STAND UPRIGHT
There are nights when the song of a single cricket can pull you away from sleep. She says that she has heard that not all Angels have wings and neither of them is sure how you would know if you met a bodhisattva. He searches the mail every day, for a letter from an unknown…
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an old writer and his words 