Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Peachy and Cream

Two dollars for a basket of Ontario peaches; butter, in a Russian lettered wrapper, sat in the fridge for over a year. I don't eat butter, but it made a good peach pad.

Monday, September 20, 2010


Speaking of intermediate cases, in 1983 a car crash split me down the middle. I ceased to exist as one person and became three: the person who existed before the crash and the two half-entities resulting from the crash.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Crow Spirits

     Mother knew the horrors waiting down the road for boys who persisted in playing in the basement with crow spirits, ravens, those huge black, shiny birds of midnight. The grid of time warped and twisted, day became night and night became day. Mother warned me to cease and desist forthwith.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

tuna sandwich by the sea

One afternoon I made tuna sandwiches, shared them and then went down to the sea. A tuna sandwich is easy to understand. Cats and birds don't need an explanation. The minute you open a can of tuna, cats come running and crows swoop around.