Category: The Word from Pandora’s Tavern

No Respite

We all fall down. Like that. The time in the supermarket burial ground, among the tilting shelves or stones, the abandoned mop or mower in the middle of the aisle of tall weeds, the...

A View

I look out this window my father looked out maybe I don’t know his last years weren’t that good he was probably looking elsewhere inward I guess that’s what I’m doing here looking the...

Night Ride

This is your receipt, not a ticket for travel. Please proceed. Ignore the rubbish tip, the vulgar negligee of fencing. The camera has no eye. The gate is open. Birth-toss out on a limb....

Even in Arkansas

Another ambitious morning of April, the usual idle reading, now it’s the dictionary—a reach, a stretch, a flip of the pages—a big book after all, to arrive at—Oh! the “wood-thrush”! Not our feathery friend...