Every Good Morning

Your child before you is a child anywhere. We are singing ‘Wheels on the Bus’. The child before me stands up and trundles over the pillows to turn and face the others who wait for her to make the noise of a bull charging. She roars her squeaky roar, and they all follow when the bull rides the bus, roaring and swaying, the Indian boys, the Bangladeshi, the Chinese-African-American girl, […]

(A Note: the addendums and footnotes after the main Post may be worth your time to read. I have not recorded them.) More and more I think in long screams of fury and powerlessness. Or I imagine the US as one of those spinning cylinders at a fairgrounds, the Rotors, where you pay your money to be held fast against a wall by centrifugal force and the floor drops out […]

It is the ambience that begins the softening I think, the wood, the soft chairs and nooks where one can hide and yet be a part of a flow of conversation and movement of customers browsing for books, and the light, a shadowy light, not noir, but more like a comfortable row house in the city. The letting go is helped by someone who smiles at them, knows them by […]

Everything feels like a damn omen. Yesterday, I saw twelve crows in a dead maple — croakers inside a skeleton’s ribs.                                             Stupid. We are all sick. His voice never stops. Who can breathe think unwatch unfeel our immersion in all things him, entropic, this 365 day haunted house […]