That morning Dangerfield picked up from his front hall strewn with bills, a picture postcard of the Lakes of Killarney with an inset, a poem. My heart is yearning For that familiar scene Of those dear blue lakes In that land far and green. Turning i...
Could get lost going down these steps. The air colder. Which way. To the kitchens. Of which according to the ledger there are six. Push open this white door. Explore while one is on the way. Give Erconwald ample time to get it back into his trousers. And out of the sight of that woman who has a r...
After a swim. Watching down into the twilight, the passersby collecting on opposite corners and crossing in little waves as the light went red for cars and green for men. The sound across the dimly lit interior of back slapping, clinks of ice and clambake happiness. The ex...
Corner of Fifth and Fifty Seventh Street. Cornelius Christian seated on the twin brass outlets of a fire hydrant sticking from this stone wall where it says Manufacturing Trust Building. A solitary stroller a block away. Sanitation department truck, grey lumphing insect vehicle squirting water an...