Sunday, February 9, 2014

10 word story

Candles melt. Wicks burn, smoking upward. Taking prayers to god. 

Monday, January 6, 2014

10 word story

Bob's Christmas tree blew into our driveway. I murdered him. 

Saturday, December 28, 2013

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Stripped Away

I'm not a sentimental person
by nature. I've never
cried over a Kodak
commercial. I've never
watched an entire
Hallmark film. I rooted
for the boat when I saw
Titanic. Nothing means

Anything. Except for
the meaning we give it;
entropy pushes the universe
toward chaos.We believe
meaning gives order.
We're hideously, horribly

Wrong. I lack those
verklempt stirrings
in the chest and womb
every time I hold
a child. I am more likely
to romanticize dog ownership
than child-rearing. Or actual

Romance. It is what it
is. That is what I always say.
The thing is the thing; no
more, no less. No artificial
sweeteners, no preservatives.
No shelf-life extenders, no
red dye number five. Or

Eleven. The not-poisonous
one. Even if, when you are not
looking, life becomes
a cake from a box. A half-made
deal. There's no crime in
cheating. Making cake from scratch
is a time-sucker. Leaching
the moments in boring necessities.
Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Breakfast.
Something else, unremembered.
Unmemorable. And a half-made

Cake. I cheat at cake. I harbor
pastries, resentments and
time. I hold them in a secret
room; a vault in my head
full of nice things and bad.
The taste of fresh mint. The scraping
of a knee. Yellow boxed
cake with chocolate ice cream
over-beaten by ten year olds. I'm

Not impressed when children
help cook. It's a teaching
moment. A life skill. Not
a perfect Kodak moment.  But still...
I will take pictures. Of every
imperfect cake. Every childish and
professionally arranged delivery
of flowers. Something to hold onto
forever. Tangible proof that
someone once liked me. Tangible proof
that I exist, even when
I have trouble believing it myself.

Tangible proof of whatever you like.
But moistly, a list of all the those times
when I interacted with the Real World.
For when I inevitably forget.

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Friday, December 13, 2013

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Monday, December 9, 2013

Saturday, December 7, 2013

Ten word story

A shattered stone mossy bridge
crossing over a dried riverbed. 

Thursday, December 5, 2013