Midsummer
What meaning—if any—to dreams? Tonight’s, for instance, that clear jar of Connemara poitín left on the kitchen counter—by whom? The memories evoked upon seeing it, many of them not mine, nor yours, surging ascensional...
Photos & Words
What meaning—if any—to dreams? Tonight’s, for instance, that clear jar of Connemara poitín left on the kitchen counter—by whom? The memories evoked upon seeing it, many of them not mine, nor yours, surging ascensional...
At the end of that great novel by Plato called *Republic*, Odysseus is spotted in the underworld standing amid a crowd of other souls in front of a big box store. It’s Black Friday...
It’s Monday and the noon fire-whistle blows. For whom? Not for me. Or not just for me and these collies walking around in the woods together. It’s for everybody, I guess, or anybody who...
On the cover of a book of poetry in my possession is the photo of a White Castle restaurant somewhere in New Jersey. The crenelated edifice of the restaurant glows eerily against the night....
As I was out and about capturing images, a voice from the shadows whispered: “All these arrested moments are soon out on bail.”
The Word from Pandora's Tavern
by John P. O'Grady · Published June 9, 2016 · Last modified July 19, 2016
A respite was needed from the hospital vigil. A small visitors’ lounge midway down the corridor offered the only refuge. The two went there. It was a windowless room furnished with three uncomfortable chairs....
During Dour Hour down at Pandora’s Tavern, the bartender–after dredging and disinfecting–walks out from the bathroom gripping something soggy and unspeakable. “Okay,” he growls to the handful of patrons dozing over beer, “who dropped this...
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