The Bare Trees Reveal New Scenery
All the leaves are on the ground now, and the bare trees reveal new scenery.
James A. Reeves
Sleep Has a Moral Dimension
If someone behaves atrociously, we wonder how they sleep at night.
Sometimes You Can’t Find the Door
Perhaps it becomes self-fulfilling to imagine the future as stern and forbidding.
It Feels Like a Video Game
We spent a fair chunk of the ride debating whether laws were necessary.
Complaining While Their Opponents Scorch the Earth
A White Honda with a Crumpled Fender
Maybe they’ll wind up on the evening news someday.
If We Can Rearrange Time, We Can Do Anything
Changing the clocks should be the year's biggest celebration with fireworks, parades, and gift-giving.
I Recited the Names of Cities Like a Mantra
A Bright Daytime Moon Hung in the Sky
I’d like to live in a world of apologetic gods and talking satellites.
My Brain Has Run Out of Sleeping Juice
These summery November days echo my sense of being out of time.
A Mumbled Conspiracy Feels Wholesome These Days
And my mind turns gullible in the small hours, ready to believe anything.
There's a Thin Line Between Vigilance and Neuroticism
The leaves have fallen, and we crunched over them while dressed for spring.