In the Grip of Dementia teased by crumbs of recognition like the maple tree on third and main she wends her way to the Legion Hall only to discover the building has been pulled out by the roots, a yellow taped cavity warns “keep out” she sulks back through the salient houses each turn a
We barely finish dinner of cauliflower and chickpea coconut curry, when you suggest we dash to the beach. The sky, like a southwestern painting of burnt orange and turquoise is obstructed by the stately maple tree in our back yard. Donning my fall jacket for the first time this year, I welcome the brisk, blustery
Farm Workers’ Quarters pre-dawn colours, crêpe sky. daybreak unfurls, edges out sleep. empty thermos, chai on the propane stove, jars of spices, crude shelves, a bucket of flour next to the mattress on the floor. a rope across this one-room life sagging with drying clothes, dignity. through thin walls, rustle of others in rooms next
Denver Juvenile Hall 1974 The cabin is in Big Sur. Tucked in the woods. After a long day of hiking and a hot shower it’s so warm and cozy to sit around and drink hot chocolate by the fireplace. There’s no TV in the Big Sur cabins but who needs TV when you got a