Poetry

I remember phrases from childhood travels, not images or events. Glass-bottomed boat. Lion Country Safari. Circus Circus. The musicality of the words meant more to me than the actual experiences. All I remember about the glass-bottomed boat was my incredulousness. How could a boat have a glass bottom? I pictured a little motorboat with a […]

Even Ground

Like most sensitive and interesting people, before I was twenty-two, I had got me to a therapist. I was not getting out of bed, and sticky with unhappiness about the end of my growing-up love affair, and I was ready to have someone talk some sense to me. She said, “If you don’t want to […]

The Creature

There are many, many things that happen I would never write here. Some bits are too delicate. If I opened up my hands, they would blow away. I would lose them. And many of my judgments are too painful for the interested parties. Too painful, and also ridiculously temporary, as fallible as all human conclusions. There’s no sense in upsetting people with one moment’s verdict. They might come out not guilty the next time, and then nobody’s better off.

I do like to pluck up a weed in my brain and try to praise it. Or smack down an insect of my own dervish craziness. Nonfiction is good for examination. Maybe someone else can look at it, as awed as I am by its construction and its invasiveness.

Fiction is different.