February 28th, 2010 -- "A Girl and Some Cliffs"

On a windy day in March, a girl in her twenties folds her arms to keep warm against a slight breeze. Her stylish, loose shoes clap rhythmically against the granite path by the ocean as she makes her way back to her sedan with keys in her hand. Meanwhile, her flip phone rings lazily on silent from the dark brown, leather purse under the passenger seat. The summer months will bring tourists.


February 20th, 2010 & February 21st, 2010: -- "Oceans"

February 20th, 2010:

The yellow fade of sun peaking in past the fire escape is, by noon, a spark of winter and a harbinger for tough months. Travelers, beware.


February 21st, 2010:

Out past the horizon in the air is the snap of time's fingers;
and the waves lap at the shore with a custodial knock,
moving rocks and sand,
making things clean and new and rearranged,
and all of this happens with or without you.


The past four days, plus one!

Light blanketing the side of a house.
Fifty degrees, or what feels like it.
The soft, steady rumble of skateboard on street pavement.
"Spring is coming," said in a hushed tone, barely a whisper.





How did they get in the attic?


Which ones belong to him?



February 15th, 2010 -- "Tornado Warning Sun Fight"

The two boys in the sun,
with their backs to the tornadoes,
savor their ideas for tomorrow.


The man from the sun does not celebrate Valentine's Day in the typical way.


February 10th through 13th

Sitting on a bench
at night
in the flooding glow of a streetlight
in some cold
without a shirt to speak of
The United States of America
waits for a bus.


The tall, beige candle, bought for $2.99 at the local convenience store on Hope Street, with such a small flame, burns for a surprising amount of time.




Oh, you have to go get them anyways!



February 7th, 2010

February 8th, 2010

February 9th, 2010


The year is 2143. The ash clouds have blown off over the seas and the sun shines on what used to be Nova Scotia for the first time in eighty years. Claire rejoices.


February 4th, 2010:

The two team members, half starved but hardly dehydrated in their reindeer skin survival suits, travel on through the hoary waste in the hoped direction of the international facility. It's been days since they last saw any of Marty's footprints after having him steal the batteries from the pack in the night. The sled dogs, including the favored "Southpaw", were eaten out of necessity and after they dropped from exhaustion into the white puff. Their carcasses were, afterward, pulled out and stretched and used for a makeshift shelter to keep the wind out. In the dark, surrounded by stinking ribs and matted, mottled fur, Donald looked at Virgil and expressed slight concern.

Eight hundred miles south, a twenty three year old post-graduate and former college football hero subversively breaks wind in public to either impress or shock his friend's girlfriend in a diner over lunch. He and all of the diner's patrons are oblivious to the dooms of the world as it spins in circles in space.

Donald checks his watch. In the blue fade, it reads 11:11, but stopped days ago. The moon rises over the snow and into the sky, and the team members press on.


February 5th, 2010:

In the oven next to the sink by the door under the window,
three hot dogs sit on a cookie tray,


Two stand canoodling while the third stands under the crescent moon thinking about tax season and the fiscal year. Meanwhile, somewhere out there, Spring draws ever closer.


January 30th, 2010: The beaked beast spreads his wings and flies off to set the earth oven.

January 31st, 2010: The tiny king stands between the lifts of his rampart and thinks about things in a rational manner. Outside, time passes.

February 1st, 2010