work
A neighbour revived, the prodigal parcel and a Maloney review
Where is all the damn cotton candy?
Where is all the damn cotton candy?
Muffins demand high language
Again, dark morning trudging. Scratching my belly; a stretch of limbs. Weeds feather my shins, thwack my calf in passing. A plunging of my hand into tepid water to crank the valve.
They Call Her the Beast
They call her The Beast. Or rather, the boss man calls her that. Late to the lunch meeting, she brought it on herself, the brutal gossiping before her arrival.
Work spreads its red invasion
The razor nicked my nose this morning. Third time in two months. Trudged outside in my underwear. I live in the country, so who cares?
Electricity blues, Maloney and domestic crises
I am woman, see me write
As the book editor (among my many other titles) at the Marin Independent Journal, I've had a lot of anthologies that come across my desk that look at life as (pick one or all):
First Day Back
First day back at school: sky August blue, puffy scudding clouds. I walk away from the classroom, feeling...what is it?
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Minutes, burials and the Big City
Managed to do nearly a whole scene in Hallsfoot’s Battle last night, so it looks like I’m back in the sad
