Monthly Archives: August 2013

I remember. . . (a litany for my father)

I remember my father’s hands when I was five and he was forty I remember how my fingertips barely came up to the heart-line of his palm I remember how I merely reached his bellybutton, and whenever I’d ask a question … Continue reading

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Recently, I’ve realized that even though I want to be an advocate for change, I’m not. I think I like the idea of “change” and want to embrace it with open arms, but I just can’t. And– although many will … Continue reading

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I-87 Nostalgia

I like the mountains the way they tower over the north eastern lobe of I-87 in the Adirondacks the way their massive bodies made of tinder and dirt hug the highway the way each tree is like a single seed … Continue reading

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My Favorite Drunk

the town drunk at my bar sloppily placed his bud draught down as he leaned his gangly body over the counter his arms spilled onto the maple-glossed wood his head looked as if it were being held up by a … Continue reading

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