The brides have passed all of the sentence tests that Polyhymnia wanted. She asked them to teach us how the earth became a sullen crib. She thought the brides should sing of nightmares and miracles, not freedoms. If we have come to know our strengths, she said, then perhaps we have come to love ourContinue reading “The World Made Up for Us”
This might be a good time to look back at a story I wrote for Thanksgiving a couple of years ago.
Mr. Pumpkinhead, a jack-o-lantern washed up on the beach, is being picked apart by gulls, who scatter and wail and keen at our intrusion. You can almost see its dancing footprints in the wet silt sand, see its shadows waltz among the surf… We pause in a kind of clownish longing inside an equally clownishContinue reading “Notation”
I never noticed the wallpaper until we took the furniture out of their bedroom. I would have said the walls were painted tan or grey or green, not all those flowers repeated around the room, not the nosegay bouquet, not the cerulean dreams my mother must have thought so cheery. And you can still smellContinue reading “Too Sweet”
If you will forgive me, sir… I ate one the persimmons. There were six, but one was bruised and I knew you wanted the picture to be a balance of brush strokes and paint and persimmon. Like Mu Qi. I know you think perfection is an illusion found in art alone, but… It could haveContinue reading “One of the Persimmons”
Most noble patron, you’ll have to forgive me for I ate one the persimmons. There were six, but one was a little bruised and I knew you wanted the picture to be perfect, a sort of balance of brush strokes and paint and persimmon, like that famous painting by Mu Qi, and I know youContinue reading “One of the Persimmon”