My Son Is A Terrible Dancer

My son attempts to dance in the living room. If you were to pass by the window and look inside, you’d probably think otherwise. As he moves around the room to the beat of his own drum, it’s quite... Read More →

Twenty-five

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I will confess to a whimsical side. To oversized fur hunting caps, worn Caulfield-style, as I dance through crooked... Read More →

Effigy

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I split wood for the fire. Tonight will be a bonfire.   We are burning ourselves in effigy.  I... Read More →

Beauty

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I contend I may never be a beautiful writer. The one who has words dancing along the screen. Awe-inspiring,... Read More →

American Hangover

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The thought of deporting my father-in-law appeases me. Unfortunately, after he snuck in this country illegally, he went back... Read More →