This Present

  While their father drove Mrs. Smiley home the children unpacked their shorts and their shirts and then wandered into their mother's room, where she had already set out her brush and her comb and piled her library books on the bedstand beside the freshly made bed.   She turned to them. "Bored already?" she … Continue reading This Present

Castaway

It was now that I began sensibly to feel how much more happy this life I now led was, with all its miserable circumstances, than the wicked, cursed, abominable life I led all the past part of my days; and now I changed both my sorrows and my joys; my very desires altered, my affections … Continue reading Castaway

Mimesis

  The Proximate Shore by John Koethe   It starts in sadness and bewilderment, The self-reflexive iconography Of late adolescence, and a moment   When the world dissolves into a fable Of an alternative geography Beyond the threshold of the visible.   And the heart is a kind of mute witness, Abandoning everything for the … Continue reading Mimesis

plainchant

alarmshrill in the inkblack ironsharp on the tongue stepcreak, stepcreak   under the elms, plumshadow and frostcrack and earthdank   now barnward stumbleboot then rumbledoor and haydust   here is ticktick dimhush and embereyes and dungwarmth   the wordless prophet   the smoldering stars   the undying glory of the day

That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire and of the comfort of the Resurrection | Poem

  Cloud-puffball, torn tufts, tossed pillows | flaunt forth, then chevy on an air- Built thoroughfare: heaven-roysterers, in gay-gangs | they throng; they glitter in marches. Down roughcast, down dazzling whitewash, | wherever an elm arches, Shivelights and shadowtackle ín long | lashes lace, lance, and pair. Delightfully the bright wind boisterous | ropes, wrestles, … Continue reading That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire and of the comfort of the Resurrection | Poem

Ghosts

The ghosts came riding in on the wind. It was a long time before they left. I'm talking years. Even then, one stayed behind. So I guess you could say our house stayed haunted. Technically.   I don't have any clear memories of that day. Mama says Becca and I had been playing in the … Continue reading Ghosts

Waiting

  Over the years, he had blazed a trail, tamed it, improved it. Now it carries him zigzag up the slope without difficulty, even in the darkness. Deftly sidestepping boulders, wending among the ancient trees, it asks nothing of his conscious thought. And so he can let his mind run ahead, upward to the top … Continue reading Waiting

Flyoverland

  Midmorning, midweek in Middle America. Single-story brick house, midway down the street. Black mailbox, dented and empty. Nondescript front door, and behind it a living room. Weary white walls, tan carpet, upholstered sofa centered below a framed picture: painting of a snug cabin beside a river, deer grazing, hillside smeared with red and orange. … Continue reading Flyoverland