when the morning stars sang together who shut in the sea with doors when it burst forth from the womb? when I made the clouds its garment and thick darkness its swaddling clothes and prescribed limits for it and set bars and doors and said, “Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stayed”? Does the dawn know … Continue reading Job

An Epilogue of Sorts (traveling to Los Angeles after a summer in France)

My last post for this category.  So there she is. Naive young girl, smart red dress, gray top, teal sneakers. Obstinately lugging her sewing machine through the airport. On her way to school in California and her senior year, supposedly full of stress and triumphs. But her head is still in the clouds. Golden ones floating above Paris from the Parc St. Cloud balastrade. Streaks … Continue reading An Epilogue of Sorts (traveling to Los Angeles after a summer in France)

Sounds like Music (another from the high school archives!)

typing i wonder if anyone cares for / believes in… this passion we create the brain on fire only the good writer knows how much is good writing worth? if creation created for adulation is not appreciated does it not exist? if a bird loses sound of its own voice are the notes still there with sounds like music hovering somewhere in the back of … Continue reading Sounds like Music (another from the high school archives!)

Airline Kerfuffles (Paris to Barcelona)

I can’t remember his name now, but I do remember that he does lighting designs for music and dance spectacles, tourist entertainment, all around the Mediterranean. He moves to a new country every year, and he really loves it that way. He’s shy, but curious, and deep down, I think he’s an adventurer…why else would you live and love this nomadic life? However despite the … Continue reading Airline Kerfuffles (Paris to Barcelona)

Passing Mortals (random train stops in France)

She gets off the train in her smart blue overcoat matching the Städtische Verkehrsbetriebe Bern [Swiss train company] deep royal marine, one hand hides while the other coaxes the lighting of her cigarette. Black pumps stalk down the platform. Lazy, yet directed, each movement a slow, graceful conservation of energy. It’s on to the next train! For some reason this reminds me of the lanky … Continue reading Passing Mortals (random train stops in France)

Madara – from Reiga, Latvia.

I met her when we couchsurfed together in Prague. We spent the day traversing the city by foot, eating cheap hotdogs, sharing a pint, and celebrating her first ever journey outside of Latvia. Vivacious, talkative, strawberry blond inseparable from her black fedora. Karluv Most. The sea of tourists squiggles too slowly under the hot sun. Beautiful long cars, I’ve never seen before, the color of … Continue reading Madara – from Reiga, Latvia.


Sitting at the customs in Chicago we find out there’s a glitch in the computer system. All passports must now be hand verified. I couldn’t have asked for a worse end to this trip. I might literally spend this night / day (this befuddled, time-traveling brain can’t even tell what it is) on the floor, in the sterile holding space of O’Hare, with a bunch … Continue reading Home

Little Pillows of Sweat (Houston)

I like the heat. The way it clamps around your face and the insides of your knees like a magician’s black velveted gloved hand on the saw he uses to cut the woman in half. It’s dense like the last layer of birthday cake, slicked down, glistening with poisonous icing. Confectioner’s sugar crystals bound up into a paste so smooth the cake can’t breath. It … Continue reading Little Pillows of Sweat (Houston)