Land of Plenty
Spring. I know because when the roar of the car wash ceases momentarily I can hear the song of peepers in the adjacent woods. I don’t know how those woods have survived this long....
Photos & Words
Spring. I know because when the roar of the car wash ceases momentarily I can hear the song of peepers in the adjacent woods. I don’t know how those woods have survived this long....
I don’t usually pick up hitchhikers but in dream anything goes and a collie is in the car too and they make good listeners so when the hitchhiker climbs in and says just drive...
Yesterday last day of ski season bright and warm the slopes “corning up nicely” loudspeakers around the base lodge blaring not-so-modern-anymore “I’ll stop the world and melt with you” all these people with pricey...
Memory is the great anti-museum makes New Jersey the garden of states petro-whiff of ghost ground finally thawing out soft enough to plant a spade into maybe start emptying the town tomb we’re running...
The Word from Pandora's Tavern
by John P. O'Grady · Published March 28, 2017 · Last modified March 29, 2017
[The following fragment was found typed on a single sheet of paper inserted between pages 242 and 243 in a second-hand copy of The Works of Thomas Vaughan edited by Arthur Edward Waite with...
The Word from Pandora's Tavern
by John P. O'Grady · Published March 24, 2017 · Last modified March 25, 2017
Spent the day writing up notes I took some months ago on an excursion to a sizable New Jersey cemetery that has, as they say in the funeral industry, a “goodly number of interments.”...
Sorry for your loess they say except this is no ash no dust it’s snow two days into spring zero degree Aeolian chill picked up one place deposited another constantly moving accumulations let loose...
A little light reading before bed last night, some pages by George Santayana, these words written nearly a century ago: “Civilization is perhaps approaching one of those long winters that overtake it from time...
Early March in the Catskills. Ascent of Friday Mountain. Cold wind, sun no good for melting hard-packed snow and ice. Pause for a break. Look! At the base of an old yellow birch, a...
This My Emily Dickinson is my second My Emily Dickinson my first My Emily Dickinson long since lost in one move across the country or another and this My Emily Dickinson just acquired I discover was formerly...
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