Tag Archives: Memory

Grief’s Promise

Writing is full of false starts and mulligans. Were it a sport it would be an inscrutable mass of expletives and rage-crumpled pages. This is not news to me, nor, I suspect, is it new to you. It is the … Continue reading

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The ‘Kegger’ Question

There was an argument, or rather a statement met with silence that he had said he wanted a ‘kegger’ at my grandfather’s funeral. The kids, the proper family, couldn’t reconcile this. The man who swore to his mother as a young … Continue reading

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A Reintroduction of Red

The around him swam in ocean of cannibalistic color, shapes bending breaking like liquid thought, unbreakable steel world around him no longer so. It was his, this small peace he’d found and placed under his skin. He could feel his … Continue reading

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