#Americans
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…
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…
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 ...
It’s August and I have not Read a book in six months except something called The Retre… by Caulaincourt. Nevertheless, I am happy
The people who were better than us… They lived in painted houses with… Drove cars whose year and make wer… The ones worse off were sorry and… Their strange cars sat on blocks i…
These fish have no eyes these silver fish that come to me… scattering their roe and milt in the pockets of my brain. But there’s one that comes—
Early one Sunday morning everythi… the child’s canopy bed and vanity… the sofa, end tables and lamps, bo… of assorted books and records. We… kitchen items, a clock radio, hang…
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
Long before he thought of his own… my dad said he wanted to lie close to his parents. He missed them so after they went away. He said this enough that my mother…
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…
They were in the living room. Say… goodbyes. Loss ringing in their ea… They’d been through a lot together… they couldn’t go another step. Bes… there was someone else. Tears were…
Cool summer nights. Windows open. Lamps burning. Fruit in the bowl. And your head on my shoulder.
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…
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.
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…
