June 2010
2 posts
Abstracts
At the store, I cried by the lobsters, a loose child, moved by a cruel tank of glass walls and salt. Too often, too often, I met the same wall: the cut-apart district with houses, untouched, the words that fly-out and splat, unheard, the dinner guest leaving early, unloved. I knew we were not made for this; I knew our bodies could not enclose us. With a head stuffed-full of dirt and desire, I...
Food in Heaven
I remember he said “I’m thinking: what is the taste of food in heaven?” The cancer cells were quick to try and take the “grandpa” from him. Soon, all that kept him with us would look like nothing more than an unmoving mannequin. And now, here we are, tasting earthly tastes, our jaws severing burritos, our thinking-skulls, above ground, below heaven, asking if there...