This post is an update about my perspective on life and my 'Self' but first I want to talk about owls, their eyes, and facial quills. Vision is not solely a function of sight. *** This post is quickly becoming an opus for ‘nonlinearity’. A falcon is a raptor but so is an owl... differently. My brain is sneaky-soft-nonlinear rather than wind-whipping-target-sticking linear.
I cried unexpectedly when I read Kamasi Washington’s liner-notes for “Harmony of Difference”. I found the suite while browsing for “Heaven & Earth” on Amazon.com and ordered both sent to my father’s house in Holland, MI. Absconding to a chair in a blind corner, I quieted too fast and my father came looking for me,… Continue reading It’s Like Warm Caramel
I begin with a parable: Two sh'baab (young fellows*) boosted a $77,000 automobile. One was impoverished and planned to benefit from chopping the car for parts, the other came for the adventure of stealing and driving. They were apprehended with no damage done to the vehicle. By miraculous luck, the two were brought before the… Continue reading ‘Parable of the Crime Duos’ & Comments on a SCOTUS Nominee
With thanks to "Classy Cars" https://bit.ly/2uJhSorA familiar vehicle paused next to my Pontiac as I lingered at the traffic-light where MD-650 crosses MD-198. From the open window of a burnt-orange Veloster, a hand dangled with a cigarette pinched between two fingers. Full recognition came a second later: it was my ex-girlfriend's ex-husband. The confluences that… Continue reading Write to Live: Orange Hyundai
I hurtled a fallen tree trunk. Last I passed that way, I only vaulted the trunk but the crispness of the morning lashed at the feelings I was trying to tread-- I wanted to leap. Whatever internal obstacles I milled on the loop of trail beyond escapes my memory, and I imagine myself hurtling the… Continue reading Whale Guts on Monday
"This is it," I whispered as my 2005 Pontiac Sunfire lost traction, sledding past the edge of the sloping curve, down a snow-swamped bank, and into an inescapable pocket next to a stump. My luck made itself known immediately: an officer from the county jail found me and let my chat with him in his… Continue reading Red Car versus Cold Blues
Laura on the Lake She is happy, now, in my dream by the lake. I see her cascading chocolate hair and citrine eyes set deeply in grinning cheeks, soft cheeks I don’t quite kiss. I don’t quite embrace her; she plays in the shallows with my Aunt’s granddaughters— who did not exist, then— near what… Continue reading Laura Returns Again