On Crossing Over
I wish I knew how to say: You all deserved so much more.
...moreBecome a Rumpus Member
Join NOW!I wish I knew how to say: You all deserved so much more.
...moreUp close, the beach was disgusting and tragic. A million tiny pieces of plastic were heaped on the shore like confetti from a hundred parades, or like the real sand on the beach threw up.
...moreStill, something tells me God’s chosen // weren’t hate-mongering gropers (or worse). Just a hunch. A woman’s / intuition.
...moreI am meditating. In a room in Rodeo, at the rickety old secretary/dresser I use as a desk. It is by a window. I look out at the roadway, and think I am glad to live at a crossroad. The house across the street is silver grey. By its front stoop is a tree all […]
...moreAt The Daily Beast, Anthony Haden-Guest reminisces about the annual Fourth of July party thrown by George Plimpton, founder and editor of the Paris Review. Not only did Plimpton throw the biggest and best fireworks parties in the Hamptons, he requested that his ashes be packed into a firework upon his death. Plimpton died in 2003; […]
...moreI clutched the uneven wooden arms of my beach chair and felt hopelessly in love with everyone, this assemblage of trash-talking deadbeats who insist they are too old to still work at a snack bar but come back year after year, even though they’ve been saying to hell with the place ever since they started.
...more