Relatives

Relatives On this, my first trip to Korea, I thought I’d seen all of my relatives except one. Then yesterday, eating dinner in Busan, although it was very dark – the lighting in restaurants here is usually quite dim – I thought I saw my grandfather drinking soju with his friends across the room. I…

Eyes Turned Skyward

Like Prometheus, I bear forbidden knowledge. The secrets of flight stolen from the realm of dreams. I will offer you these esoterica. Shall you rise in darkness? Shall you fall in light? Which most appeals to your nature? When the sun rises, scale the highest peak within sight of your circular horizon. Fling yourself from…

Inkslinger, Rainmaker

I zip up my hoodie, my mottled green armor against the modern day. I slip on my true face. I swing onto the stage, the swagger cloaks my trembling core. Behind me, my footsteps are footprints seeping darkness into the lacquered floor. In the house, audience silhouettes are illumined by hand-held black mirrors. I step…

ON HE RODE — Chapter Eighteen

There have been times in my life when I was convinced the act of sleeping was an unnecessary habit promulgated by atavistic traditions as normal and necessary when in actual fact it was no more effective at promoting health and well-being than praying to some vague Power with your friends on Sunday morning. Who says…

Aging in Place

“Prostitution,” the tall man states with serene confidence, “is the public promulgation of private parts for pecuniary purposes. Do we call it renting? Or selling? Letting? Or getting? And so what? “The real question,” he adds, sips his Longboard, holds the glassed amber before him in a neo-Mussolini salute, “is whether you are ever embarrassed…

Cantankerous

Cantankerous Boy, come help me dis can-tankerous! –What? No can open da can. –How come? Sardine come in square can. No can open. Can-tankerous. –Ha, ha. You da one cantankerous. Not me, da can! Gonfonnit! Help me open. –Uncle, wassamattah? Da damn can opener no can go around da corner. Who da hell went invent…

Speaking to the gods

Speaking to the gods We had a long talk the other day – the gods and me. I thanked them for my good life, and they said they had no more to give, and I had no more to ask. “Cashing in your chips?” they asked. I said, “I know you would like that because…

Old Dog

Pulled by a fragile memory of an unpardonable deed, you amble crookedly to the door. Relief lies just beyond –yet you circle back, struggling with consumption of circular destination. The urgency disappears– under your toes, under the long dark arch of toenails, tracking back and forth, back and forth –paw prints coloring your relief.

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