Goines On: The human head

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On his walk this morning, Goines saw a human head lying in the grass alongside the house ahead. He realized in the next half-second that it wasn’t a head but rather a possibly over-inflated football. People, especially children, left all manner of things out in their yards overnight.

All Over the Place: Wild weeds that flower

By Michael H. Brownstein







The carcass is a meadow.
Love slugs and crows,
Maggots and an incessant humming.
Tourniquets are made with these materials
And asphalt, teeth, metal sculpture.

Poetry & Portraits: Elektra

Drawing by Susan C. Price

Elektra
By Eric Meub

They call me Amber. You can hazard why –
Some rock you rub on fur to make sparks fly.
And I’ve been rubbed, all right: Dad went to war;
Mom found herself a dandy (she’s a whore).

Goines On: All us creatures

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Goines could still remember a dream he had the year he was twenty-two, while taking a nap on a delightful, rainy Spring afternoon in the Berkshires of Massachusetts.

Fiction: Jaudon – An American Family (a novel) [5]

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Chapter 5. Guadalupe River

By the time the U.S. Army decided to address the Indian problem, the 200-300 Comanches had stolen a reported 3,100 head of cattle in New Mexico. Many had been stolen from Mexicans and were never reported, so the count could be much higher. But there is no way of telling how many cattle crossed the Texas border.

Mary’s Voice: Posthumously Speaking 13

Detail “San Simeon Lighthouse”

San Simeon Lighthouse 
& Cabin in the Mountains

By Mary Alice Condley (1925-2007)

[Editor’s Note: We are grateful to Maryjo Williams for sharing two more paintings by my sister Mary Alice Condley. Maryjo is the daughter of Chloe, a sister of Mary’s husband, Elbert O. Condley.

Sketches from the Twin Cities: Hennepin Day Parade

June 7, 2019

By Geoffrey Dean

The fire trucks up in Anoka
Are white like fresh-bleached from the soaka’.
    So shiny and new,
    Lights flashing in blue —
Father Hennepin’s parade is no joka.

Goines On: Back yard in emptiness

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It was evening, and night was quickly darkening. A wave of sadness enveloped Goines as he walked out to the compost bin in his back yard to empty the day’s accumulation of unused vegetable matter – rinds and peelings of fruits and vegetables, plum pits, apple cores, mildewed bits of lettuce, coffee grounds.

All Over the Place: Turning into a ghost

After a Jewish tradition

By Michael H. Brownstein








One moment you feel a weight of gravity,
A blanket, for example, the first light,
A slight draft and then, out of focus,
You come into yourself and understand
The confusion of ghosts. How unsettling to be

Fiction: Jaudon – An American Family (a novel) [4]

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Chapter 4. San Antonio

1866. On March 13, the United States Congress overwhelmingly passes the Civil Rights Act of 1866, the first federal legislation to protect the rights of African-Americans.
    On March 27, U.S. President Andrew Johnson vetoes the bill.
    On April 9, Congress overrides the veto.
    That year, the first big cattle drive takes place over the Chisholm Trail. Charles Goodnight and Oliver Loving round up wild longhorn cattle and, with other ranchers, drive them to Kansas.

The Jaudon party rode into San Antonio with high expectations. James and Rafael led the wagon this time and were prepared for trouble. This was their last stop before heading into the backcountry.

Goines On: Earth to earth

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On Goines and his wife’s first drive to the airport the morning they would fly to Minnesota, before they discovered they’d left a bag at home, she had told Goines of spotting a couple of young deer on her walk the day before, as they were emerging from the remaining forest of the housing development adjacent to the Goines’ neighborhood. That had been the first time she’d seen deer in there, and she attributed it to their loss of habitat.

America’s Froth of July

By Moristotle









Worshippers pump up his act of demigod,
rallying to bump him to an epilogue,
    playing their role assigned, his chumps,
    repeating loud his smashing thumps,
humping to install him two-term demagogue.

Copyright © 2019 by Moristotle

Roger’s Reality: We heard it

By Roger Owens

His son. His son. He buried his son. We heard it. Not the actual, physical interment – the funeral. For hours we could hear the black women wailing, the preaching, the church music. It was across the little branch of the Layou River known as the D’Leau Manioc. The D’Leau Manioc runs right in front of the bungalow at Zen Gardens, where we were staying, in the tiny Caribbean island known as Dominica. Zen Gardens is in Bells. Bells is a tiny village in a tiny island. To call it a wide spot in the road is to denigrate the road. When something happens in Bells, you can hear it.

Empathy (a poem)

By Geoffrey Dean















When you sought the self-same size
Was it really me you thought
Or yourself in soles disguised?

Goines On: Nature trails

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While Goines had enjoyed his cardio walk following the slender, dark-haired woman and her dog for a couple of blocks, he later felt a bit uneasy about having done it. How could Goines not be shy about people knowing or even just suspecting that he was attracted to a number of women in the neighborhood, that he was drawn to attractive women – attractive in either body or soul, if they had shown him their soul.