I am told to leave ( Read more... )

I am awake and making cornbread, and wondering just how far ahead of time i can get away with slicing the potatoes and carrots. We have no dill for said carrots, and may have to be away with ginger; i will walk out to the grocery store as soon as they open for salad and asiago ( Read more... )

And yet i can't tilt the song out of my head; the never-have, will-not-have, incorrect that deflects and binds. There are many things i may never have, nor be, nor can even pretend at, but it doesn't mean that i have to give over.

Time to make sure my heart is still ratcheted open.

You're going to fill, god damn you.

I wish i could bring you with me, to this. It's unfair that your wrist is not in my hand.

I have decided that i very much like the names on some of the Amtrak cars. Many of them are dry, dead politicians, but others are charming in their unabashed New England-ness: the Knickerbocker, The Charter Oak, the P.T. Barnum, The Sleeping Giant. It pleases me that someone, somewhere, still goes through the trouble; of selecting the names, of ( Read more... )

These are not necessarily the best the building has to offer; it is too beautiful, too sprawling and secret for that. It's only a brief walk from one end to one corner.


( Read more... )

I am about to turn myself inside-out. There are no words to say how beautiful this thing is, or what it wakes ( Read more... )

Homesickness for places you cannot go, for people you can't touch, is not poetic, most of the time. It's just a way you have to live.

Life lately is making things and laying low ( Read more... )