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I Ask the Birds for Their Forgiveness

I am stumbling and destroying myself. I always have lived my life this way, but lately, with both my heart and my guts, I have reeled at the dizziness, disorientation, and nausea with sickening immediacy. I fear I am losing my mind to it. I saw, on a rainy day, the first tenuous blooms of Continue reading
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Crouching In a Room Full of Spiders

About 6 months ago, I finally read Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky. I could write a series of separate essays analyzing its themes, but here I will focus on the motif I found most singularly resonant: the image of a cramped and squalid room. Raskolnikov spends much of the novel in his tiny apartment, Continue reading
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I Hate It When It Gets Cold

I hate it when it gets cold. I do not say this because I’m from Southern California, where cold weather is spoken about like a foreign war. I went to college in Utah and now live in Washington, and while I feel great nostalgia for the smokey scent of the chapparal and sagebrush in the… Continue reading
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To the Bereaved

Only twice in my life have I met someone like you. Twice, I foolishly thought I might be able to provide some kind of comfort or peace. Twice, I was reminded that I am still but a child: powerless, lost, and afraid. Twice, I was guided back by you. Speaking to someone experiencing profound sorrow Continue reading
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Troubles

Though I am an old man now, ‘The Troubles’ is still my life. Derry is where I was born, and Derry is where I will die. Derry has bled enough for a lifetime. When my granddaughter last visited, I took her for a stroll around the city. She’s a curious thing, that girl, and already Continue reading
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Sediment

The town slept in a valley beneath a twinkling sky. The mountains stood stalwart and still, and only a single gust of wind blew down their rocky slopes, carrying the invisible blanket to swathe the night in silence. The crickets did not chirp, the frogs did not croak, the birds did not sing; the earth Continue reading
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Phantasms on the Shore

The child watched them, wide-eyed, saying nothing. Just as Sirris had said, they began to rise from the lake: translucent, amorphous creatures, as if life had been granted to the mist which gathered upon its surface on gray mornings. One by one, they drifted into the night sky, carried forth by some unseen, ordered wind Continue reading


