An Island of Mind and Ocean

We departed from a small airstrip on the shore of Northern Michigan, near the town of Charlevoix. Our destination was Beaver Island, referred to by locals as the “Other Emerald Isle.” It was situated in a small group of green atolls, some thirty miles...
Read on »

The Contradiction Of You

The Contradiction Of You

I listen In tumultuous Silence For breath-taking Heart-beating Scintillating Skinsations I feel Spine-humming Mind-numbing Coruscations Nerverberating Through me In orderly chaos The death Of my Prior life Was a Rebirth With you As my partner My universe Expansively Compacting In your presence
Read on »

Sparkle

Sparkle

It snowed like crazy Yesterday And I got to Wondering Why snow sparkles It’s all about Individuality And light And angles I saw David Bowie Died And I got to Wondering How it is Some people Sparkle too And I realized It  is all...
Read on »

Disposable

“How are you coming along?” Ralph’s voice betrayed none of the irritation he’d expressed during an earlier argument. No wonder. He probably thought he’d won. “Great,” I called back, trying to sound, if not cheerful then at least neutral. Moving is stressful, I reminded...
Read on »

Next

2
Next

One of my favorite lines, in any movie ever, is one delivered by Angelina Jolie in Maleficent. Just two words, dripping with satisfaction: “Well, well.” If I were here in the flesh, that’s exactly what I’d say and how I’d say it. But I...
Read on »

born losers

  Heard a radio host/lawyer say on air that nothing ever really happens in this country. If it is a country. That definition is up for debate down here. I guess that is not so to Al Jazeera. In their program Fault Lines, they...
Read on »

You

You

When leaves have turned And fallen down, And blankets of white Now hug the ground; When birdsong no longer Fills the skies, And crickets have ceased Their lullabies; When nature’s palette Fades in hue, And frost kisses grass Instead of dew; When mountains shrug...
Read on »

stitches

I am teaching myself to crochet. My mother tried to do so, ages ago, but she is right-handed and I am not. I began my education around two in the morning of January 1st, when I learned to make Christmas baubles. It is a...
Read on »

lingua francas

  There is always the sharp possibility that I am wasting my time writing, that ink won’t save the bits of me that float away, pecked at softly by imagined fish. I am dissolving, words barely rooting me to paper, a knot of sepia...
Read on »

More from Arts and Letters
All images, unless otherwise specified, are licensed through iStockphoto.

Simmering on Medium…


And then some...