August 2021 Writing

Winter died of a broken heart or I did before I lived to see it. If you’re reading these words it must be the end of the world. The fire extinguisher is under the sink. Thursday is trash pickup. Takotsubo is the medical substantiation of loss, the heart squeezed into...

         Christmas, 1947. A few years after the war, I visited a college friend a few towns over, near Darien. We went caroling. My singing voice is only tolerable as a throaty whisper, so I pretended to have a cold. Laurence can’t sing either and the joke is that...

I just picked one thing "collector of missed opportunities" off my list of things I could be known as. Then I changed it to "curator" because it's more high-falutin'. LOL  While this story is fiction, I actually think this could be a great memoir title for me.  ...

August shade shifts surreptitiously to foreshadow nightfalls at 5:00 PM spent leaves floating in winds of fallen passion   I’m stalked by shadow people they dart behind corners spy on my sleep surly as snakes they hiss in the darkness twist my desires savor my...

Gracia Haibun My wife says every poem must include a feather just as every season and state has a bird. I could list here but last night we swam in a storm. Lifeguard beckoning, when the waves passed, a pigeon had eaten all our potato chips. I returned to peeling,...

Olak recalls being placed with this runtish, obstinate, imbecilic, high-strung punk: ‘I bet his curiosity turns any adult’s hair grey’. He relays this to the loving face looking out at him from the wall, then catches Kalo’s next move ‘Oh God, he’s pulled up The Law of...

Here is where August Writing goes!   Happy Writing!