People who equate truth with fact are missing the point.

Darkness Is a Cannibal

No Points for Style

I remember walking up the stairs to Robert’s apartment, determined to end the hateful stalemate that was immoveable, static, a mountain or a moon, and I walked up the stairs trembling and I would end it. I would end it if I died. . . . → Read More: Darkness Is a Cannibal

Our Very Flesh

Fire

That hate. Does it hold your hand, comfort you, dry your tears? Will it make love to you in the warm dark of a July night when all is anguish and you need to feel life truth hope whispered against the skin of your neck? Has it served you meals when you are hungry and wrapped you in blankets when you are cold? . . . → Read More: Our Very Flesh

The Transcendent Familiar 7: Choking on the Ashes

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.1 (except it’s less of a part and more of an interlude) Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 If you haven’t read parts 1-6, that’s OK. This one stands pretty well all by itself.

Peek with me into a house and observe the family therein.

There’s . . . → Read More: The Transcendent Familiar 7: Choking on the Ashes

The Transcendent Familiar 3.1: I Won’t Fade Away

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Some stories are like laundry. The longer you put off telling them, the bigger they grow.

This story, the one about my earliest adulthood and my relationship with Jacob and Abbie’s dad, has reached the ceiling, toppled over, and begun to spread across the hall and into the . . . → Read More: The Transcendent Familiar 3.1: I Won’t Fade Away

As Predictable As Rain In Seattle

As predictable as sleepless nights with a newborn…

As predictable as spring winds in Albuquerque…

As predictable as taxes on April 15 in the US…

That’s how predictable I am.

My sons are both nearly perfect physical replicas of their fathers, what people have called, ever since those weird Austin Powers movies, a “mini . . . → Read More: As Predictable As Rain In Seattle

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