bumpers are for denting

Nowadays I wake up in bed and remind myself to relax, unlocking each joint in my body. I open the curtain. I sit on my bed for a while. Sometimes I sit on the chair by the window. I take a few minutes to concretize my existence before I leave the room.

as a cargo of furniture unloads

For the first time in a month, I came home after work and wrote for two hours. I worked on the bus scene and how the narrator falls asleep while the bus moves more and more slowly until it comes to what feels like a stop. He enters what feels like a church with nothing that resembles a church. There is what is called a ‘portico’. There is a tank and a scene in which Carmen starts pouring water down on people from the upper deck of the bus. As my perspective clears, the story will become more apparent.

i hovered lonely as a firefly

Monday is my longest day. The kids wrote their unit test on King Lear. When class finished at eight, it was already night. I stood at the middle of the bridge corridor that ran above the parking lot toward the adjacent complex. Strips of glass covered the sides of the walkway. I looked outside. A car here and there passed beneath me. I saw the lights behind me reflected in the glass I was looking through. I felt very much like myself again. Dreams resume, even though they never left me.

always winter

It isn't so much that I have something to say but I that I want to reestablish my presence here. It feels much like dipping my toes into the water. Had I not taken myself out of here, there'd be no need to come back in so hesitant a manner. But here I am. I go very very far when I'm thinking right. Projects. Back to my stories. Where have I been in February? If I sit down and really see it clearly and string together a sentence for every thought I had all this time...