September 15, 1994 The baby sleeps in the other room safe and warm in my big bed, peaceful. She’ll wake up soon, fussing a little, forgetting for a minute where she is. I’ll pick her up, wrap her in her small blanket. We’ll sit in the old rocking chair, she’ll wake up slowly. She’ll be
I’d Been Waiting For Her Read More »
February 1982 SUNSET HOTEL Ballard District, Seattle, Washington We hide in the closet every day, the telling smell of the forbidden fruit for which some dread thing will happen to us if it be known, here in this old hotel. Huge wide corridors, painted walkways, squared in green and light green. Alice’s tunnel. Pete lives
May 1974, Mendocino, California Cows on the Road I got a job as Community Health Representative for the Mendocino County Indian Health Board, $650 a month, plenty enough for me and my kids to live on. We were trying to escape from a drunken, abusive husband and were scouting for a cheap rental. It started with
Clear Creek near San Benito Mountain, California, 1988 Thursday, May 12th It’s getting hotter. The big tarps flap in the cooling breeze, our truck is totally hidden under it’s blue house, held up by tent poles, guy-wired and secured with fat long nails pounded into the rocky ground. Clear Creek. Motorcycle country. All day we’ll
Clear Creek: First Day Out Read More »
I’ve never stolen anything in my life, except for that Christmas tree. Three of my six kids lived with me in the old tank house behind the Yum Yum Bakery in small town Ft. Bragg. Got the lights turned back on, and our food stamps arrived at the Mendocino post office so we could have Christmas
Christmas Tree Gang and the 1952 Chevy Read More »
Composed and paraphrased by Frances Cast of Characters Diotima: A no-nonsense woman, probably made up by Socrates, with the help of Plato, who probably made him up. Scene Agathon and Aristophanes have invited Diotima to a get together after the presentation of a trilogy by Sophocles, who is present along with Ion, Alchibiades, Apollodorus, and others. By
IN THIS LONELY ROOM, spidered with ghosts who talk to me with their faint music, over the floor, the walls, up and out the tiny windows, I feel their breath in the damp air. Tonight I will not sleep, nor tomorrow nor the day after. I’ll make myself crazy, to dream crazy dreams to write