Tag: #SOCS
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Stream of Consciousness Saturday: I Smell Saltwater
I smell saltwater, and just like that, I’m 10-years old again, and we’re driving past that cranberry processing plant where berries roll and float in salty pools, the tidal waters renewed twice a day, and we’re a mile or so away from the marina where once a year Dad goes deep-sea fishing. That’s our summer…
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11 September: Somewhere #socs
Somewhere That’s the way of things, isn’t it,the past.Always waiting there. It’s a long shadow, likeboarded-up windows to keep out the sun and salt air, or like cold rooms where youdon’t dare breathe becausethe air is damp and…
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Stream of Consciousness Saturday: 4 September
Stream of Consciousness Saturday: 4 September Above the dim stirand clatter of dishes, we sit content at tables. Dinner talk.Tea and sugar.Blossoms and ash. We,the ages,playing cards. Pale worlddriftingin constellations, five stars look like a cat. And this dull pencilhas lost itssharpened pin. Dull lines is allit writes. It seems…
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A dVerse Soliloquy Stream of Consciousness
My-My-My My mum lived in a little blue houseat the top of a hill where lodgepole pinesleaned in the wind like a widow’s hump,and there was a creek, raged full when itrained, but the soil sucked it dry by July, (I’m being generous when I say “creek” –it was more like a drainage ditch), and…
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A White, White Fog
A White, White Fog Did you see that woman withhair like a white, white fogstanding with her back to uswith one hand on her hip,looking at a child face downon the pavement? And you say, What woman. And if I were walking, I would’vestopped to make sure that childwas okay, and possibly…
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SoCS At The Lake
Stream of Consciousness at the Lake I walked around the lake this afternoonwith a view to having a coffee anda sticky bun to show for the effort,and two boys came fast behind meon their scooters. One says to the other, Do you have dinosaurs? to which the other says,Yeah, I have lots…
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Miz Quickly’s 14 August
Always Look on the Bright Side of a Hill I’ve never been able to walk up this hillwithout pausing midway to catch my breath. He knows that at roughly the same spot I’ll stop and pretend to look at some weed with its blossom hinged off toward sunlightas he waits for me to wheeze in its…
It's Still Life 