Postcards From Now

Finders, Keepers

Sitting on the step at the bathroom door, in shoeless heat, I write a poem about faraway snow. Quinn is Neptune in a bath full of plastic dinosaurs. He is roaring and administering Great Outpourings from his Great Plastic Beaker. The dinosaurs are helplessly washed this way and that in stricken groups, their faces frozen […]

busbusbus

I see, as I push him along, that the sidewalk unfolds itself in heuristic benevolence before him. Birds and trucks appear as weighty manifestations of the things shown to him in the books he devours (literally). Two birds, little theophanies, cross his path. Hop, hop, tweet, tweet, fly, fly. He shrieks with excitement at the […]

The Wild of Words: Day 12/100

We climbed out of the car, at once celebrating the wind with king-of-the-world arms. We had chanced the high, flat plane and profited. We had found the only wind there was. We quickly colonised the shaded part of the sand and silently went about ploughing and overturning and disrupting until we became dust and children. […]

It comes like buses

The lady on the phone did not so much give me directions as tell me a story about how I might experience my journey to the bus depot; you wanna go under the highway and after a while you’ll see Fran’s hamburgers where you take a left and once you see the stadium on your […]