Narrative, Observations, People, Reflection

Write to Live: Orange Hyundai

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

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Narrative, Observations, People, Reflection

Whale Guts on Monday

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

Memories, Narrative, Observations, People, Reflection

Red Car versus Cold Blues

"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

Memories, People, Poetry, Reflection

Laura Returns Again

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

Lotus blossom and seed-pod
Analysis, Memories, Observations, People, Reflection

Bog Flowers, Nut Armor, and the Paradox of Precocity

Seeds germinated. Burial makes life possible two-thousand years later: bogged-resurrection, the wait that moves life forward. Ending and beginning are impossible as opposites before they have fused together in one moment. Something is dissolving in me: let me set the scene... My dearest is a botany teacher; I will call her Apricot from now on.… Continue reading Bog Flowers, Nut Armor, and the Paradox of Precocity

Anchor pendant & grandpa's locker
Analysis, Memories, Narrative, People, Reflection

Wrestling the Anchor: Nautical Impressions

I wear an anchor pendant. Unhoused neighbors, in uncanny encounters, recognize it as a sign of faith, at times, and indicate it when they ask for donations. There is a subtle lift to being recognized for what I am despite not being sure what composes me, or how to express it — the nebulous, shifting… Continue reading Wrestling the Anchor: Nautical Impressions

My Classmate & I
Memories, Narrative, Observations, People, Reflection

Leading with my Body

Tuesday night she found me, nearly asleep, on the alphabet carpet beneath the paper-mache jellyfish. My classmates were perched on itty-bitty chairs examining a collection of sea-creature-themed mixed-media projects labeled in English and Spanish. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to find someone passed-out in kindergarten — with or without booze— I’m Melanie, your new… Continue reading Leading with my Body