Tag: childhood memories
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19 March 2019
Memories of a Wheel of Wind She was like that. A wheel of wind. My mother possessed the kitchen when she made bread. I watched in wonder, her softness of motion as she stood in a white floury cloud. Stretching dough. She’d slap her hands on her apron, flour dust rising like scattered smoke. Everything…
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A Red Hen Wordled
Reflections on a Red Hen We bowed our heads, reflected on what that chicken’s life had been. What it’s like to eat stones and grain and wisp-winged bugs. What it’s like to sleep locked up, and maybe cower under cover when thunder comes. What it’s like to stop, to watch billowed clouds and rain drops…
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Poetic Bloomings: 8 July
That Summer of Crows I was ten. I was smaller then. The world was smaller, and that made everything bigger. Made the sky bigger. Made the old oak bigger than sky, and when I stood under that tree, clouds disappeared into its leaves, into its shadows. It was wind- flicked and dry as old books.…
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Poetic Bloomings: 7 July
June 1962: All That Noise and Bomb Drills Summer rain fell on our white winter arms, that much we both remembered. It was a chill that tightened the skin. Stiffened your bones. And we’d hang around like two stretched ropes, sitting on the front steps waiting for Dad to come home. Do you remember, she…
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For Miz Quickly ‘s Old Coin
Salt and Lot’s and Lots Saturday morning was library day, and on the way home, two or three blocks past the Holy Blessed Heart Catholic church, was a tavern with red neon lettered signs scrawled across the windows. I can’t recall its name; we weren’t allowed to look directly at it. And Mum, in her…
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dVerse Haibun #13
West Beach The sea breaks just inches from where I stand. It’s a cannon’s crash in my ears. A tempest. A churning purgatory. We’re walking fast along this wet sand, the tide pushing us faster, the beach paperflat and straight into the west sky, and we’re barefoot. Mom says it’s good for the arches of…
It's Still Life 