Here now, at three in the morning, I find a whisker on the floor outside of Juteau’s room, laying parallel to her door, like a black line drawn on the old hard wood. I bend to pick it up, and I can hear a sound beneath the deep breathing of the sleeping Juteau on the […]
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Old Music RememberedJuteau is tracing power lines with her fingers as we lay together in the grass by the old school near the airport. Her hands dance in the air, sliding this way, crossing over that, like she is conducting an orchestra of electricity. She hums a tune as she goes, something I can almost place, but […]
1976DevURLIf it were 1976, the wastebasket by my desk would be filled to overflow with balled up and discarded bits of paper, torn from my typewriter and pitched without a second thought. I’m terrible with beginnings, you see. Everyone has something. What I do when I’m starting a new project is to put my fingers […]
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