Things Immaterial

I found a moth on my kitchen window, climbing up the screen. It was a large moth, close to an inch, I think— I didn’t measure, and it seemed confused by endless mesh beneath its legs, its feet— fragile, if moths have them, I didn’t check— and morning’s heat, the lack of exits, how it … More Things Immaterial

Provenance

His car belonged to a Nazi. Not a would be, Or wannabe, Or could have been, Or clone, But a Nazi high in rank, A name you’d know, And I forgot The minute he smiled and said it. He keeps it under wraps in his garage To shield it from harsh winters, Hungry salt; But … More Provenance

When Words Fail

WHEN WORDS FAIL They are slippery, evasive, coy, dangling on our tongues, sometimes, yes, at the tip, and sometimes on an edge, not big enough to bite, or near enough to taste, resting on molars, or canines, before vanishing and reappearing in a flicker, chuckling. Once in a while, they are gremlins, gumming up the … More When Words Fail