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Thoughts from the back deck, after a funeral.
I wrote this right after my Grandma died. My apologies if I’ve published it here before. sitting on the floorof grandma’s back deckin my funeral clotheshead leaned against the white boardsof the sidepeeking out through the screenwaiting for the cows to come back. my shoes are uncomfortable, sitting like this- high heels and ankle straps twisted around but…
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From August 14, 2010: Grandma
I wrote this almost three years ago, after visiting my grandpa in the house he had shared with my grandma. Her chair was in the same place it always was, empty now; the cookie jar still sat on the top of the baker’s rack and I was afraid to look and see if the cookies…
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Something Ugly, But Not Really
This is one of the rare things that gets a disclaimer from me. I ran it by beloved to see if he thought it went too far and maybe shouldn’t be published here, and after he smirked about a line or two (this is a good thing) his response was, “Um… my dad reads your…
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Steampunk and Space Rock and Shakespeare, Oh My.
So remember last year, when my brilliant sidekick took over George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead and, with the help of his esteemed cohorts in Silver Machine, wrote a trippy new soundtrack for it? He’s at it again, this time taking on sound design duties for a local steampunk version of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Even if you’re not big on Shakespeare,…
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floor.
in the dark, fumbling for the lightswitch like a drunk still wiping whore-red lipstick from his crotch and breathing fumes of cigarettes and stale whiskey on the doorman as he tries to maintain some sense of dignity -the light evades, exhaustion wins the floor becomes a haven, cold and hard unforgiving, flat black tiles cracked…
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funk and photographs
A couple weeks ago, beloved and I went to see one of our favorite bands. Before the show, one of the musicians came over and introduced himself, expressed his gratitude that we came, and then told me he’s one of my biggest fans and mentioned that I hadn’t written much lately. That was weird. Incredibly kind,…
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four seventeen
i ravage his treasure steal from the dreams he keeps locked inside his simmering head written out longhand, his sharp letters a path to the stars night, darker than the furthest corner from the sun and i am nightmares raging, waking out of breath unable to speak with my own voice unable to see with…
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selfish.
i said, in my sleep, i want everything whispered, face turned away from the sleeping back beside me i took it back almost immediately just in case my voice might have carried kept inside the selfish bits wander loose from time to time wanting everything always to be the only thing my system of belief…
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On English Classes, Guts and Expectations
Some of you might know that I went back to school recently. I am required, as part of the standard curriculum, to take an English class. I thought about testing out of the class, but decided to go through with it because I don’t exactly have a ton of experience writing the kind of things college…
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Asheville Writers in the Schools Write-A-Thon
Hi friends, Asheville Writers in the Schools is a non-profit organization that places writers in local schools to teach kids about the joys of reading and writing. I’m participating in a “Write-A-Thon” to raise funds for the program; I’m hoping it will help inspire me, too, to complete the children’s book I’ve been promising baby…
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April Fox 