Driving around in an old car you fill with instruments and bags for wherever you go to make music real. Though I don’t know what you drive. I hear you go to Chicago a lot; I read that you travel around the state a lot, too. I know too much without words, but also nothing. Continue reading As if a Phantom Caress’d Me — w4m (Port Huron)
Attached to bones just as muscles are,
I can’t help thoughts that penetrate my skull.
Afraid that once we’re lost and gone afar,
I’ll know I could’ve loved you most of all. Continue reading Fantasies and Sonnets
She told her secrets to the river. It’d become a habit. Near dusk, she’d lace up her all-terrain boots, put on her heaviest winter coat, and walk to the water. Continue reading Top-Shelf Whiskey, a prologue
You said maybe there’s a reason for this pain,
which doesn’t explain
why I’m loving cigarettes again Continue reading Sleeping Pills
And the wondering … ensues as walls of oncoming traffic would in commotion with my standing forever blissfully in the left-hand turn lane. Life rushes by and my emotions are so near collision but just out of reach to really know that it’s cataclysmic. Continue reading If We Got Our Shit Together
I get an infinitely vague sensation like you’d been holding me — one arm around my waist and the other up my back. Maybe at one point, you’d held me close enough that your breath rushed down my neck amid the slow, automated motion of your chest rising and falling. I can trace the very thread of memories as if I’d lived them until it all unravels in an instant. Continue reading You Were Mine and Then …
There’s a certain way that you lay the sheets and quilts — perhaps more generously to one side — that … Continue reading The Fine Art of Bed Making
“You know her from the high school paper?” his companion asked.
“Yeah,” he replied. “For me, it was just a thing. But she …” He paused. “She took it really far.”
I smiled to myself, realizing that someone had kept up inadvertently with my college journalism career. It was weird. Like all my hard work somehow mattered in a way other than just the obvious. There at Kaya, though alone in a corner, I felt seen. Continue reading Coffeehouse Distractions
Pent-Up Aching Rivers 