Lyric Prose |
“Ashes, Ashes”
“The ash content in the atmosphere creates gorgeous sunsets over the still waters of Lake Tahoe — where I stand on its northern shore considering the aperture settings on my camera …”
Lyric Prose |
“The Barn Swallow” & “Picasso vs. Dali”
“The church gave me permission to hang a painting in their hidden poker room. I’m not religious, but the church and I have a professional relationship.”
Lyric Prose |
“The Neighborhood of Make-Believe” & “My Mother Looks for Me as a Baby”
“We came to your side of town wanting to get away from our side. We brought this desire with us. Carrying it in suitcases. Sacks that weighed on our backs.”
Lyric Prose |
“Under the Harsh Light”
“Coming back from the countryside to be a high school teacher, I said, My nose is not pretty, when the school leader said, You have such beautiful eyes.”
Lyric Prose |
“Uranus’ OKCupid Profile”
“Why all this emphasis on having a solid surface? What’s wrong with being a mass of churning liquid? What even is a surface anyway?”
Lyric Prose |
“Breakfast,” “The Summit” & “The Red Bike”
“It was Tuesday, Tuesday with no Wednesday to follow, no Monday to precede. The hour hand on the clock whirled like a propellor, so fast it stood motionless. The second hand inched forward, unbearably slow.”
Lyric Prose |
on “Poems Not Written” — a recurring feature On The Seawall
“I used to tell my creative writing students when they got stuck to write absolutely anything at all for seven minutes.”
Lyric Prose |
“My Mom’s Knitting Bag is Still Filled With Her Last Projects,” “Last Night I Saw Mom at a Party” & “Aren’t Healthy People Unaware of Their Heartbeats?”
“No past nor future was mentioned, only the clicking of needles or scissors’ snips were heard. At times silence was broken by the difficulties in finding a certain silk thread in a matching color.”
Lyric Prose |
“Water Monologues”
“My wife went out to check the cars and they were submerged. But that’s not what she said. She said, ‘Look — a fox.'”
Lyric Prose |
“Under Canine (outtakes)”
“Let Ramón remind the Lady that he is a Blessed Creature of the Living God, no less an Incarnation than she, more holy than profane in all his doings, as Beautiful as a Good Dog on a day at the Dog Park, when dog frolic is the movement of heaven.”
Lyric Prose |
“a treat”
“We played together until she was called home for dinner. She told me to visit her any time and gave me the number of her flat, pointing to the door that led to her section of units.”
Lyric Prose |
“The Enchantment of Death: Briar Rose”
“Every child who learns a story by heart learns his or her own story. Unbeknownst to the child, it speaks inside her, through the forms of the fairy tale, the life knotted in her blood that will dissolve over the years.”
Lyric Prose |
“The Smell of a Peeled Orange from Across the Room”
“… she told me I was a stupid boy and that meant that there would be no other night like this for me and I couldn’t remember my name but her name was Sally …”
Lyric Prose |
“Four Interiors,” “Distance Prayer,” “Mala” & “John Donne: A Closet Drama”
“She would scratch my back and shoulders lightly. She would call me Angelique. We were close and we were not. The world was full of things we could not say, so many I barely noticed them.”