Who Lives And Writes

So liquescent, so deliver his heart. So long North, your ghost is my turtle. A lawyer and solicitous father who lives and writes in her book.

The children had to memorize poetry and the aforementioned family dog. As I would think of someone with whom I would. The thing with feathers that perches in the soul.

I think everybody’s got different, uh, urges. Broadcasting ominous threats was big business in those days. He wrote, a gendered engagement with the world.

Trombone, unicycle, burrito. The poem was evocative of two birthdays at once. School books sold off now and computerized.

Telling to live the tale. To the chicken it was merely a road of two. Possibly recalling her poem at the last moment she was.

In convincing fashion with four songs it began. Gracing our state quarter today, thank God. It must be fought for, protected, and then handed on for – I mean to – them.

Will you be home soon I wonder? You rickety exponent of breath?

Categorized as Sentences

Her At Her Looms

Music without warning at the door of a neighbor. The grotesque proceeding, which took place at night, precluded lavender. Her shift and hairlace and no other clothing, her eyes ablaze like a red hot poker.

In February of course, made by the blacksmith out of worn-out scythe blades. “My Gramp had got a little beyond that,” he said, and it took years to form an objection. Whittled out of staghorn shoemake how ’bout.

A foaming dish of eggnog. A fillip of the divided finger. The old habit of wetting apple seeds, sticking them to the cheek or forehead or cheek after assigning them a lover’s name, and seeing which one fell of last while we chanted and sang and filled the room with song.

With his cheese under his arm, the wandering preacher took the floor. In time, all men grow mad and exert himself. In the guise of a tinker, against the devil.

Lest she cause a murrain to come upon cattle! Her back door was a tree full of red apples not a one of which ever rotted. And woe to anyone who hurried her at her looms.

Dreamed of ghost fishes slatted into empty barrels knocking in the hold. Rather than keep her at a dead loss they found an unsuspecting buyer. On board was a box belonging to a handhorn which nobody could open.

You with the lead, do you hear me crying? Following a trail, growing old in the dirt?

Categorized as Sentences

A Promise, Kind Of

The wind always sounds as if from a distance it’s gaining. What is falling to the ground in a stream so constant or else. And: a long way is a promise, kind of.

But I am in this process, you are in that one. Time lies so shut it the hell up. The question is how much information will any sentence hold before passing off to the next one its burden, load.

One by one the toy blocks looked at themselves in the mirror, composed death songs, reorganized their coupons. First snow is a recipe for grace. If you can dig the hole by eight then I’ll be there.

And he was as he said. The duration between was its own circus of lingering thus and thus. Yeah, I can’t stop thinking about her white bonnet, the “springtime of death’s year,” so-called so well, either.

Marrow, narrowing. Melancholy belly dancers. Exactly – the moon is “nowhere,” yes.

The way out, that dream. The fiction inherent in selection, in needing to get it so right that you have to lie. This to that, as any ratio would.

So many signals, so little time. Yet for you my dear, again, form.

Categorized as Sentences


An earlier conversation about what my writing needed. The work always shifts.

Regarding art vs. commerce while I don’t think. A lot of time on trains.

A beautifully wrought vision of a post-apocalyptic world can be what. Well, some call it dual voice and others blended discourse.

The isolation is an ongoing concern. They weren’t light in terms of heaviness or depth.

My grandfather passed away tonight and that is going to throw off the schedule. Let us tackle together this next bumpy patch.

Meanwhile, we’re fine. I must say I envy the surplus of great pubs in your part of the world.

Family? I hope we’ll get to spend time together again.

From this end in my opening preamble in my response. Habit doesn’t really contribute to flow.

Back in the mail! I guess I’ll just type up what I did on one day.

Based on fake travels to a fake city, I’m kind of intrigued. I’d be happy to read of.

Categorized as Sentences

Heavenly Or New

Silence is generally followed by a rapid countermarch, a sentence that appeared on page 42. A kingdom in rebellion, troubled by agricultural practices that skew towards the wealthy. While down below the children slept fitfully, the skin of their hands raw from scrubbing the foredecks.

One could say albeit in a peaceable way. In the course of – oh, five seconds – she was able to slash the binds and free them all. Along the river bed were numerous ruins from which colorful birds rose, like shards of rainbow retaking the sky.

A blistering effect subsequently discounted. One can be happy or else a little animal. The aerial ballet had a beginning, middle and end, but no audience.

A chest in which dozens of smiling faces were hidden. The windows were tall, dusty and draped with mahogany-colored curtains. Keep the letter “U” to yourself, would you?

Onward Christian soldiers, petrified masses await! Any man can be effectively scuttled, it’s mainly a matter of timing. As absent a live pig, most monkeys will die of ennui.

Nothing was heavenly or new but we still ate cheeseburgers in the rain. A common device of pirates now used mainly as a literary technique to hold a reader’s attention. A pair of iron girders fell, rattling the workers on lunch break, yet providing each of them a useful story for the dinner table later.

He forgot – or put aside, maybe write it that way – how much he disliked emotional scenes. From time to time echoes resounded in the hallway, reminding one of how complicated life could become.

Categorized as Sentences

Slipping Over The Years Into Earth

A brass spoon with a serrated rim. Paddles through dark water, layers of leaves, and gaping bass beneath which. Grendel’s father, that spiky replicant, keening at dawn, “what have they done to my boy?”

The bass drum was as big as a wheel, looked like a donut, lugged up Main Street in the bright orange sun that only shone once. Candy-stripers with their silly smiles, how fast we age, like leeks in November. I remember long ago a moonlit night, a postage stamp of a beach, and voices that traveled like lost birds over lightly ruffled waves.

Warm shoulder being one definition. Your marriage resembles certain desirable farm implements of the nineteenth century. While the mouth kissing is the engine of the soul.

Form and content, ice cream and sugar cones, a wet dog and a lost leash. Yet another dialogue trails off in face of snow, the open palm. Mossy wood, home to newts, slipping over the years into earth.

Her shirt was pale blue, her features akin to a collection of wild birds. The Linden trees in bloom, still. They paved over the old trolley tracks despite protestations.

Why are you awake? The litany of the dead continued long into the night while rain pounded the leaky roof and desperate plans were made, none of which would be tried. For we do want to be deceived but not always and then only to a degree.

I’ll fold myself into your petals, recline there, be alight there. So held by a gaze, so readied for the world to come.

Categorized as Sentences

Awful Stillness

There was no recess of the woods so dark. Any secret place so lovely might claim exemption. From those who had pledged their blood to satiate their vengeance.

The cold and selfish policy of distant monarchs. A colt was seen gliding like a fallow deer. He had reached the vigor of his days.

Symptoms of decay weakened his manhood. The sun had already disappeared. Assuming a dusky hue.

Acts of vengeance or hostility were speedily drawing near. Deluded by the deceptive light, converted. The fragment of some fallen tree into human form.

The strong glare of the fire fell full upon his sturdy, weather-beaten countenance. Forest attire lending an air of romantic wildness. A necessary though more vulgar consideration of supper.

Faculties are not required for the greater purpose of existence. He listened to some distant and distrusted sounds. The principal edifice of the village.

My day has been too long. In the midst of the awful stillness.

Categorized as Sentences

Practice Courtesy Yourself

They must be removed or the problem is likely to continue. Practice courtesy yourself. Torpedo casting, and trolling sinkers, or weighted flies.

Childs, Coonamessett, Deerfield, Farmington. Capture the fish by enticing it to take the device into its mouth. Schools in submerged structure, especially brush piles or fallen trees.

Either sex in Fall season. In a conspicuous manner the deer must be taken. Pheasant and quail when raccoon and opossum.

May be trained at any time. When coyotes may be hunted with slugs. Aliens who want to hunt.

Muzzleloaders are exempt from this requirement. Face in ink and attached to the rear. No person shall build or maintain a fire.

Natural heritage. Road-killed moose may not be kept. Without regard to race, color, creed, sex.

Dragonflies and damselflies. Vascular plants, and a guide.

Categorized as Sentences

North Forever

People settled settled here so thickly among the rocks. Set upon a hill, an unusual hill. Drew the corpse from the corners to the tomb by hand.

Apple trees look gray and impenetrable. The hurricane and final deluge. The waste of woods that lay between them and the seat of authority.

Habitual contrariness. All journeys were performed over trails or paths marked by cut or girdled trees. Sores on his shoulders from which he died.

Depressed places by means of yoke or cattle. The people went out and did whatever we had to. We didn’t know what the horse was going to do.

I never knew her to be ruffled or upset. Our paupers remain the same as last year. The old church until a short time before it was abandoned.

I could shed bitter tears over this unnecessary misfortune if it would do any good. He delighted in striking out. With unwearying faithfulness he walked up and down your hills.

A flurry of early snow obscures your face. Facing north forever.

Categorized as Sentences

So Liquescent

Appetite for dross or dross appetite, you decide. That woman understood both death and poetics. A hymnal hidden in the wall, discovered during razing.

Perish or cherish my chubby young Mephisto. He opened his wallet at the meeting’s end and moths flew out! A dark luminescent green like the eyeshadow Peter Criss once wore.

Near the end I’d say, when everybody’s dreaming of donuts or a winning raffle ticket. Speech impediments in penguins obsessed the latter half of her public life. They moved to a small town with a biblical name.

Yeast, Yeats, and sleep apnea. The bow broke while the water cooled for tea. Running over rubble he suggested for a title.

Your memoirs made me feel as if I’d bathed in hot taffy. The tennis ball wondered if they’d ever finally settle. The blitz, my bride, the blitz!

There are times when twenty is too little but of what. The former trapeze artist studied law and eventually became a wealthy respected patent attorney. Have you noticed how poorly trained most high horses are?

You once said you would melt me, and hold me inside you, indicating with your right hand a spot between your left lung and shoulder, where I would reside so liquescent, an expression of affection that terrified us. In the parking lot of a store that has long since ceased to exist.

Categorized as Sentences