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On The Destruction Of A Roseate Spoonbill Marsh Habitat, Early 1960s

Trauma is a shock too large to contain. Like a current too strong for the body to dissipate, it burns as it passes through. It disfigures the spirit.

Forgetting

A reunion at a cafe, a little nap, a boxing match sans trunks

Sunbeams

Life is bitter and fatal, yet men cherish it and beget children to suffer the same fate.

Heraclitus

Afternoons

The rooms were filled with the smells of food. The only sounds were those of the house slowly settling around us, and the birds outside in the walnut trees, and an occasional car going by on the blacktop road.

Heat

Turkish baths, a Greek island, a cat named Tucker

The Unspeakable Things Between Our Bellies

I don’t identify with most other mothers — the conversations about clothes and music lessons and camps and milestones in development. The only mothers I truly feel OK around are the ones whose kids have something different about them. Something odd. Or wrong. Or worse.

On The Verge Of Extinction

From ten Saturday morning — when your father picks you up at the house you don’t want to live in, your mother’s boyfriend’s house — to eight Sunday night, when your mother retrieves you from the house you never wanted to leave but are now allowed to visit only twice a month, you have thirty-four hours for your father to prove to you that he’s not the man your mother says he is.

The Best Feeling In The World

4 AM under the big top, a prison cat, the highest pleasure

Boxes

The many uses of a box, seven cubes, guerrilla farming