Category Archives: Updates

How to answer or better yet Ask the question . . . and What question you might ask When really why may be Where you want to go   Which is a valid inquiry And the one you think you … Continue reading →

  she rode the Greyhound from L.A. to Montana every year holding her rosary her water the bus tires to the road and watched the moon glow out her window the same moon she’d wished on in Connemara before she … Continue reading →

it’s all a mystery what makes us tick   what matters the whys   how we deal with each other how we handle ourselves   one man cries one woman hits   one billion-plus will never quit two billion more … Continue reading →

The Ninemile House was renowned for its T-bones and prime rib. Max Huff’s recipes,   Roquefort dressing, spaghetti with grilled garlic-buttered French bread. Butterfly prawns shelled   by hand, and the fries like the burger patties were pressed fresh daily. … Continue reading →

Where else can you go when the sweet dream turns on you, hair up, baring teeth, eyes dead- cold, the low growl from frothed lips . . . as it slowly skulks away?   Nothing can be put out of … Continue reading →

I am comfortable lying in the weeds looking at the sky be it warm summer or musty fall. I like watching the bugs crawl, the flight patterns of butterflies and bees, chewing stems and smelling the grass- earthy scent around … Continue reading →

  it’s all a mystery what makes us tick   what matters the whys   how we deal with each other how we handle ourselves   one man cries one woman hits   one billion-plus will never quit two billion … Continue reading →

Sally opens the door and jumps on my friend, hugging, kissing, and dragging him into the kitchen. I follow. She yells, “Polly! Mikey’s here!” tells my pal to take off his shirt. Paul strolls sleepy-eyed out of the bedroom, gives … Continue reading →

edges and centers rivets and feathers nothing holds ever so let it ride unfold slouching gyres come and go laving on paint thick as Vinny Van Gogh from Top Sail to York from Flagstaff to Cork nobody sings like Aly … Continue reading →

What I like about Ray is the way he notices the little things that don’t count toward the business end of the day: peeled paint, mossy shingles, pine needles & cones, the freshly dug hole & mound of dirt beside … Continue reading →