saving daylight and losing my mind

I feel crazy with the time change, like I have a small animal stretched out along my scalp, pushing down on my brain. I guess at my age it shouldn’t come as such a surprise anymore, this spring forward business. But it does, it always does. I find myself staring for minutes on end, lost. Not lost in thought. Just lost. But the sun … Read More saving daylight and losing my mind

Love this bit from one of my heroes, Thurston Moore, waxing poetic on the mix tape–The Best 90 Minutes of My Life: I also needed to hear these records in a more time-fluid way, and it hit me that I could make a mix tape of all the best songs. So I made what I thought was the most killer hardcore tape ever. I … Read More

poem for 4.4.05: A Valediction: Forbidding Mourningby John Donne

I heard about this stuff on the news the other night and I find it disturbing to say the least (how about: fascistic, xenophobic, etc)–Immigrant Spotters Rally on U.S.-Mexico Border: Organizers of the Minuteman Project, which takes its name from American Revolution militia, say 1,200 volunteers will stake out a 20-mile stretch of the border with Mexico throughout April, and report illegal aliens to … Read More

I suppose I should say something about Pope John Paul II. He is dead and I feel sorry for the human being who has died and hope that he did not suffer too much. I remember when he was elected. It was just a few months after my father died and church had already sort of ended for me. And even before that I … Read More

You forget in the cold of winter that spring is not all so green as you remembered.

Melting snow reveals decay. Your feet are wet.

There are a few bright spots of moss, living, green things. Yesterday, a black moth flew up from a snowbank and there are spider webs along the windowsills. They do not wait for the snow to melt.

But everything is wet. Melting and wet. That is spring. And the rain is better than snow for now. Soon the pond will fill with peepers and the night will be alive again and you’ll forget these silent days of waiting for something to happen.

It’s raining. Endlessly. But we mostly don’t mind because it melts the snow, the remaining patches and banks of which there are many. There is one bank at the end of the driveway, near the mailbox, which is still two feet tall. Below it are daffodil bulbs I planted. When will they grow? The streams and ponds and rivers are high. The brook next … Read More

poem for 4.2.05: Angel Saintby Lilah Hegnauer

And the winner is…

Alicia Gifford–huge congrats to the wonderful Alicia on being awarded this year’s best online short story by storysouth. And congratulations to all of the other top tenners for their inspiring work.