I like coffee cups. The woman (rest her soul) who used to live here collected salt and pepper shakers. We walked into the house on the first day that it was ours – empty, filled only with sunlight and shadows... Continue Reading →
Who said that only animals are animated?
The nights around here are like good poetry. The phrases are brief and sparkling – never lengthier than the stretch of my headlights through the unwinding roads.
I’m writing in black ink today, which is psychologically more daunting than blue.
Moving from where we're at, always to where we're going, and never really returning to anywhere we've been before.
My wife told me all of this after I’d carried my daughter inside.