#AmericanWriters
On the Columbia River near Vanta… Washington, we fished for whitefis… in the winter months; my dad, Swed… Mr. Lindgren-and me. They used b… pencil-length sinkers, red, yellow…
She serves me a piece of it a few… out of the oven. A little steam ri… from the slits on top. Sugar and s… cinnamon - burned into the crust. But she’s wearing these dark glass…
This morning was something. A lit… lay on the ground. The sun floated… blue sky. The sea was blue, and bl… as far as the eye could see. Scarcely a ripple. Calm. I dresse…
October. Here in this dank, unfa… I study my father’s embarrassed yo… Sheepish grin, he holds in one han… of spiny yellow perch, in the othe… a bottle of Carlsbad Beer.
It’s August and I have not Read a book in six months except something called The Retre… by Caulaincourt. Nevertheless, I am happy
This blind man, an old friend of my wife’s, he was on his way to spend the night. His wife had died. So he was visiting the dead wife’s relatives in Connecticut. He called my wife from ...
As he writes, without looking at t… he feels the tip of his pen begin… The tide is going out across the s… But it isn’t that. No, it’s because at that moment she ch…
Fear of seeing a police car pull i… Fear of falling asleep at night. Fear of not falling asleep. Fear of the past rising up. Fear of the present taking flight.
So early it’s still almost dark ou… I’m near the window with coffee, and the usual early morning stuff that passes for thought. When I see the boy and his friend
A few minutes ago, I stepped onto… of the house. From there I could… and everything that’s happened to… It was hot and still. The tide wa… No birds sang. As I leaned agains…
I woke up with a spot of blood over my eye. A scratch halfway across my forehead. But I’m sleeping alone these days… Why on earth would a man raise his…
it gets run over by a van. you find it at the side of the roa… and bury it. you feel bad about it. you feel bad personally,
By the time I came around to feel… and woke up, moonlight flooded the room. My arm lay paral… propped up like an old anchor unde… your back. You were in a dream,
Cool summer nights. Windows open. Lamps burning. Fruit in the bowl. And your head on my shoulder.
He said it doesn’t look good he said it looks bad in fact real… he said I counted thirty-two of th… I quit counting them I said I’m glad I wouldn’t want t…
