Peaches

It’s later, now. After the peaches and the pie crust and after Dad said he has lymph cancer. It’s after spending 3 hours today blanching, peeling, slicing and spicing peaches I bought on Tuesday and placed in the brown paper bag, on the Mexican tile floor. Beneath the side board they rested into themselves for four days. Until their scent dripped thickly from the air and sweetened us with sunset...read more

Hole Self

Out on the edge of things- edge of comfort, politeness, legality, acceptability, of “what we do”, there aren’t a lot of arms holding you. There aren’t a lot of voices reassuring you. Because you’re somewhere no one’s ever been. You don’t know. And you know you don’t know. You are leaning, balancing over the edge toes tingling, gripping. Hoping to feel some security about the place that’s here. The...read more