The Singin’ Rage

Fats and Little Richard would come to our rescue, but before they did I ached for Patti Page, “The Singin’ Rage,” as the radio deejays dubbed her. I remember loving “How Much Is that Doggie in the Window?” And “Mockingbird Hill”–…

Fantasies in’56

Hank Nicci worked as the gas pump man at Greville’s Sunoco all that summer. He had a heart like a Valentine, but softball-sized, tattooed on a shoulder. It said Mom. What else would it say in those times? His bleach-blond girlfriend…

The Rural Sublime

...the only sensible impression left is, "I am nothing!" –Coleridge Farmwives conjure elaborate quilts. Woodworkers busy themselves at their stations. No shortage at all of craftspeople here, but however deft these artisans,…

Assumptions and Cullings

I sometimes come on headstones in backwoods graveyards girt by their own shallow graves the size of bathtubs and by brush, through which each one juts valiantly upward. Lately, whenever I take to my local river, small cavities in either…

Partners & Pardners

In the pre-op room, my wife was given a scalene block for a brief procedure. She had shoulder surgery three months back, and now again they’ll anesthetize her to break up scars that have kept her in pain. She’ll be comatose, however…

2019

Some are apt to swoon over nature, loving what they call harmony. But Tennyson got it right on whoever Trusted God was love indeed And love Creation's final law, saying Nature, red in tooth and claw With ravine, shriek'd against his creed. The…