Thursday, November 29, 2007


Last night I was alone in the house, in the bed, for the first time when the rain began. It came quick and heavy. The wind moved through the pines in the back. The trains and the rain on the tin roof were like a banjo number. "...Gonna die with a hammer in my hand." I switched on the light and wrote down, "John Henry and Casey Jones are crying like lovers in the hallway."

Trains -2

The bridges and river are lost, there is only neon and streetlights beyond the steamed windows. The car smells like wool, dumplings, and musk. "... He got shot in the arm, came home and had a beer then called the cops on himself... Well when we were in NC Mr. Helms, yes Jesse Helms that's right, was so nice to us. My husband was a paratrooper, everyone was so nice... In CA they take your baby for anything! That state is crazy for taking babies away...She wants to go shopping downtown. What do I say? She's my daughter in law, but she's like sandpaper, like nails on blackboard to me.." A business man whispers into his phone, hoping by posture and quick to impart the importance of his call to those around him. A red haired woman playfully beats her toothless, latino boyfriend with a soggy paper. He grins when she calls him "Puto, Putolino." The authorities in hot yellow vests come to check fares. While they ticket a pack of black boys, a blond, plainly dressed white kid slips nervously out the exit.

Saturday, November 10, 2007