Writing Practice

Prose, poems and raw ugly beginnings

With and Without Consent

The nakedness wasn’t what kept Daniel riveted behind the clear glass beads hanging in the archway to Martha’s studio. Nudity was a constant in his life. Neither Henry nor Martha hid their bodies from their son like his friends’ parents did. That’s why his friends...

Jeandarc’s Revenge

Pinch me was the only thought in Jeandarc’s head while she watched the gallery door open, again and again, for more patrons. Yesterday, she turned twenty-eight; Today, she was celebrating the opening of her first New York Art Show. She worked hard to get here. But she...

A Breakfast of Intimacy

It was a June Cleaver-Donna Reed morning. Breakfast was eaten around the table with my father and mother. My older siblings had already left for school. Pink grapefruit coated with sugar lingers on my mind and tongue. I’d just swapped the grapefruit for a bowl of...

Retro Town

University students, bundled like pigs-in-a-blanket, pull stocking caps and darned hats over their ears, while women with long hair and unadorned faces maneuver strollers with toddlers and babies and large dogs on leashes. Off in the distance, the early morning sun...

22 Million Dollars and Nothing to Do

Pay off the house— the carsBuy a new carRemodel the houseMove  Fix Jason’s teethA wealthy lawyer with crooked teethturns people off  Save for the twins’ education— or notA degree doesn’t guarantee a job— not nowMy college years were wastedespecially after...

Freeing Vesuvius

Movement was key, and the key was around my neck; that’s what extra shoestrings were for— skate keys. After eight hours at a desk, where the only activity was my pencil gliding haphazardly across the page to form letters and numbers I didn’t care about, I needed to...

Veteran’s Lament

Angular man with guitarNo longer gazes at the stars.  Fingers pluck with eyelids closedMuscles tense—               No chance for repose.  White hair like a mountaintopChanneling chords of...

The Beneficial Curse

My husband, Jack Wade, was raised by a brood of women made up of his mother and his father’s sisters: Agnes, Melva, Genevieve and Sandy— an outcome of his father’s death when Jack was three. Wade males died young; it was the family history. His mother constantly...

Ode to Mr. Koss

He stands in the back of the roomA veteran of warA monument of knowledgeMy teacher.  We must not look upon his faceNothing is written thereWe face front alwaysEven when answering questions.  His voice is unexpected baitFor our seventh grade mindsWe do not...

Scare in the Night

Scare in the Night

My first short story, written at the age of seven with all its glorious bad grammar and spelling. Charlotte Jahn lives with her old Aunt Henrietta in a worn-down old mansion. Charlotte’s aunt is a kind old lady who loves children. She is about in her seventies and...