taking a christmas break from blogging…

it’s a fish fry here, oma and opa and cousin are over and the air smells of cumin and cut potatoes, sliced french, and the table’s laid and we’re all saying grace in our quiet family waythe sky let go, this weekend, clouds fell flat on earth, white...

imperfect prose on thursdays: oh holy night

my childhood is strung across branch and light and “pretty” i tell my son as he tender touches bulbs and he marvels at the sparkle and then i kiss him sweet dreams and pray him down to sleepand my friend and i stay up, mothers talking into night wondering...

how much i love you

there is a graciousness to lovewhen the light strikes with slant-certain i see us 50 years from now, happy, grey, grooved, dentures, dress on backwards and lipstick on crooked and happythe slant that finds me worn on a day so awful: a day when the dishwasher crusts...