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The Thing
I am learning that there are at least thirty different ways to interpret “thing.” I am learning to listen for cadence, to look for context. This is not always easy when two or more “things” are...
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The Language of Sundowning
Upstairs is a trail of clues – two bowls of cat food, side by side on the ottoman; a nutcracker jammed into a Yankee Candle; a small Lord & Taylor shopping bag filled with dirt on the kitchen...
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No Title
I want to keep these flashes snug, protected in the blanket of the warm August nights from whence they emerged. Windows down, Rick Astley blaring, you demanding that I listen, listen to THAT VOICE, my...
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Go. Lightly.
I try, and fail, to imagine what it’s like – To not know that you don’t overturn a planter on the kitchen counter. To have no way of summoning the words to explain why you did it. There is dirt, dirt...
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