Monthly Archives: February 2013
a ~ Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…
My youngest might be my loneliest. The middle boy, he’s rarely alone and, anyway, is blessed with that enviable ability to befriend whomever he happens to be next to. The oldest – his natural state is aloneness (even surrounded by
a ~ Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…
My youngest might be my loneliest. The middle boy, he’s rarely alone and, anyway, is blessed with that enviable ability to befriend whomever he happens to be next to. The oldest – his natural state is aloneness (even surrounded by
b ~ Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…
I believe this to be true: Bodies in motion remain in motion, bodies at rest remain at rest. Case in point—when I am at work I can zip and dash around, getting things done. At times my energy seems limitless.
b ~ Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…
I believe this to be true: Bodies in motion remain in motion, bodies at rest remain at rest. Case in point—when I am at work I can zip and dash around, getting things done. At times my energy seems limitless.
b ~ And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Monday morning our computer was in need of some critical care. I attempted the impossible, but the images I wanted did not magically appear from the printer– no matter how insistently I pushed. As I stood from the chair,
b ~ And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Monday morning our computer was in need of some critical care. I attempted the impossible, but the images I wanted did not magically appear from the printer– no matter how insistently I pushed. As I stood from the chair,
a ~ And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
I am an introvert who hasn’t been alone for three years. I woke up bitchy yesterday and not even coffee helped. Not a walk, not patting the horses, not buying an online subscription to the Times. Still bitchy. There are
a ~ And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
I am an introvert who hasn’t been alone for three years. I woke up bitchy yesterday and not even coffee helped. Not a walk, not patting the horses, not buying an online subscription to the Times. Still bitchy. There are
a ~ Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
Most of our floorboards were cut from trees that we cleared to make the horse paddock. (We were not always overly tired parents struggling to remember to run the dishwasher every night. We used to have energy. We used to
a ~ Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
Most of our floorboards were cut from trees that we cleared to make the horse paddock. (We were not always overly tired parents struggling to remember to run the dishwasher every night. We used to have energy. We used to
b ~ Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
When I worked in New York, I could tell you, down to the tiniest detail, most anything about my store. When it was my turn in the rotation, I often walked the floors, cordless phone in hand. There I would
b ~ Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
When I worked in New York, I could tell you, down to the tiniest detail, most anything about my store. When it was my turn in the rotation, I often walked the floors, cordless phone in hand. There I would
a ~ Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin?
When I am an old woman I will sit by a window with a black shawl around my shoulders. I will tangle the knotted fringe of the shawl among my craggy fingers and look out at the snowy world. I
a ~ Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin?
When I am an old woman I will sit by a window with a black shawl around my shoulders. I will tangle the knotted fringe of the shawl among my craggy fingers and look out at the snowy world. I
b ~ Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin?
‘I think I prefer to live at the level of what the British call muddle. Muddle with occasional squinting at something that might be called clarity in the distance, so as not to despair.’ From Carlene Bauer’s “Frances and Bernard”
b ~ Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin?
‘I think I prefer to live at the level of what the British call muddle. Muddle with occasional squinting at something that might be called clarity in the distance, so as not to despair.’ From Carlene Bauer’s “Frances and Bernard”
Let us go then, you and I 