-
Q5: In and Out of an Imaginary Dream
IN AND OUT OF AN IMAGINARY DREAM A dream.And I wake with a pebble of an idealodged in my brain that there was a tablewith me on one side and on the otherthe unborn and dead. My babies lostbefore term, grandparents, my parents, a husband,three dogs, and that seagull that hitthe window like a stone.…
-
Day 5: A Book Called Tastes Like War for GoDogGo Café
TASTES LIKE WAR …assuming war is tartar sauce Signed up and off he went to some place, who knows. I was in high school, always bought myself fries with tartar sauce for the walk home. Can’t eat tartar sauce without thinking of him.
-
VV January 2022
The Abduction of a Forsythia-Yellow Duck Saturday night. Bath time. I am deep inrising puffs of steam, between warm breathof fog, lavender salts, and 11 o’clock. My legs, bitten by hot water, seembuoyant and drowning at the same time,and my toes are painted scarlet Sirens. Such wee beauties, my alluring tragedies.Sing, chorus of razor-sharp tonguesfrom…
-
Q4: The Grimm Side of Imaginary Dreams
THE GRIMM SIDE OF IMAGINARY DREAMS There’s rolling fog, poison ivy, and there’s a woman in black with a nose like a bat and wings like rhubarb leaves, and there’s these seven little men wearing billy goat chins who juggle seven red apples between them. And my first grade teacher is dressed up like a…
-
Day 4: A Book Called “Crying in H Mart”
CRYING IN H MART … and assuming crying’s not a laugh, Love can happen in a hyper-market. There with the waxed juiceless limes, and the fish shimmering like paint, and the brined and rotting eggs with their shells cracked and dyed in tea, and a girl’s tears dropping like heavy pearls when he asks her…
-
Q3+1: The Café of Imaginary Dreams
TWO EGGS OF IMAGINARY DREAMS My waitress … is it still waitress or is it a waitperson now… is standing over meand staring across the street.I think she’d ratherbe working over there. And she says,You ready to order? She shifts from one foot…
-
Q3: Children’s Menu at the Café of Imaginary Dreams
The Autistic Children’s Menu at the Cafe of Imaginary Dreams It’s the nuggets.Always the nuggets.No sauce.He hates sauce. Can I substitute saucefor waffles, he asks.May I, says his mother.Yes you can, says the waitress. And he hates all the noise.It’s always the noise.Knives and forks and platesand the chewing chewing. May you turn off the…
-
Quickly’s Day 3: The Sounds of Imaginary Dreams
Prose: The Sounds of Imaginary Dreams It was either the Goodwill or the Salvation Army, the later being situated on a steep slope toward the lake, and the former making no impression on my memory whatsoever. It was where I bought my first radio. It was silver. Dad painted it blue, from the same pot…
-
Day 3: The Book of “Playlists for the Apocalypse” for GoDogGo Café
PLAYLISTS FOR THE APOCALYPSE or when there’s salt stirred into your tea Gimme shelter from undead,and their reanimated insects.From ash-heaped histories,and your bad moons rising, from the subterranean bluesdripping off your shoulders,from the holy water in your iron,& bubblegum stuck in my hair. But here’s the script. …
-
Day 2: The Book of “Chasing Me To My Grave” for GoDogGo Café
January 2022 It’s Not Time … chasing me to my grave, after all, my mother lived to 94, and my grandmother to 100. It’s the inevitable sadness should I outlive …
It's Still Life 