Raw this morning in these hours before dawn. raw like an open bleeding wound. It’s dark and cold and I can feel everything. The streets are deserted nothing to distract me no one to be with or charm vulnerable and in pain but alive the future is an empty boulevard running east, running west, north … [read more]
Wider-Audio file
I am trying something new. Sandy suggested I should read some of my writing aloud and put it up onto O’Keeffe Woodworks as an audio file. You’ll need to click the title to get the audio controls. Here is my first attempt. Let me know what you think. -Geoff
L’amuse Bouche-Elegy For A Friend
In a memoir, Anthony Bourdain shared with us that he recalls precisely the moment he decided to become a chef. While working in the kitchen of a middle-of-the-road seafood joint in Provincetown, Massachusetts, serving a large wedding party of which the bride was good friends with Tony’s chef-boss, he and his scullery mates peered out … [read more]
Leap
My cat leaps to a height relative to his that would be, for me, twelve feet or more, many times a day, beginning not from a run, but from stillness. When he does so, he has no idea what the landing will be like or what to expect. He simply can’t see that high to … [read more]
Guest Poet: Barbara Jackson
DOLOR He was still there the next day when I returned In spite of having an order for hourly morphine Oxygen levels decreasing Pulse and temperature rising Cool cloths and a light sheet A warm room crowded with the extended family of ten children At times spilling into the hallway Sweet smell lingering, … [read more]
Death and Life on Lee Hill Road
She lay on the pavement as the sun rose, her eyes present and wild. She gasped and her tongue hung loosely from her open mouth as she bled out. Her spindly legs twitched and she uttered faint sounds, a mule deer’s death rattle. Tufts of fur were strewn along the road for thirty feet where … [read more]