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SlowReads

  1. It was spring when she died. My uncle lived to not see another spring summer fall, to not open a blind. We buried him in the cold.
  2. At my aunt’s funeral, my uncle called my name. That was all.
  3. The curtains drawn, the dormers dark and alive with death and my uncle, restrained and unrestrained, working the limits.
  4. That my uncle would scream at all hours with his grandchildren downstairs.
  5. That my uncle would scream.
  6. She spins me half way. Spin me until the mirrors finish and I leave as a tree, tall and cared for, a presence with no face or backside.
  7. My black and white hair plays in my shade, a peaceable kingdom of birth and death in the linoleum grass. I live for birth and death.
  8. I don’t know how she wakes me, but she holds a big, round mirror behind my head. Behind it, she smiles: a midwife.
  9. The barbershop stretches long like a coffin, a final home lined with mirrors and furnishing time for honest reflection.
  10. A poem is a tiny, geologically active planet, a slow collision of imagery, sound, meaning and ambiguity. (I love the faults, the geysers.)
  11. @rabbishai But how can one explain without attempting to persuade another either to take action or to at least change her mind?
  12. What's the difference between a “persuasive” and an “expository” essay? Explanation is just a means of persuasion –- a form of it, at most.
  13. [Take 5:] When the rain leaves, the trees rain. Drops hit fat as bird shit, pellucid as eggs on a cold skillet.
  14. Threaded replies are a dramatic convention. The playwright writes his lines, but the world hears his dialogue.
  15. Maybe all writing tries to recreate the present of the past, while voice is simply presence.
  16. Writing and reading sometimes seem as necessary and as insufficient – and as loving and lonely – as life.
  17. God created the heavens for the waters: the heavens divide the waters and the waters.
  18. I like dictionaries. Nobody says, “Have you read this?”
  19. The large, morning, white house swaps sleep and devotions. Sunlight blinks pink in black pines. My cousin sunny-sides eggs and slops grits.
  20. Bleach-gray shutters, blue-gray dawn and the sun in the closet, striped blind beside the sky, rare as a solar eclipse.