drmstream[writing]

A gen­tle slope drops from the back of our house to an old stone wall, and beyond, a pond sur­rounded by high trees.  The pond was a lime­stone pit once; the still sur­face mir­rors the dark­ness below.  An oak tree fell into the shal­low south end and in the warm months a slen­der grey heron […]

  When I walked out­side the wind was rac­ing through the trees and I thought to myself, This is alive. This is alive, the wind, the sky, the air. This is alive, me in this moment, my foot sink­ing into the ground. This is alive. The moment passed as quickly as it man­i­fested. Later I took a walk […]

Detec­tive Sun­der­son walked back­ward on the beach glanc­ing around now and then to make sure he wasn’t going to trip over a piece of drift­wood. The wind out of the north­west had to be over fifty knots and the blow­ing sand stung his face and grated his eyes. It was below freez­ing and the surf […]

  What I see clearly I pass by. What I see but do not see, I stand to wit­ness. My heart goes wan­der­ing, pulls my soul from its slum­ber, pesters mem­o­ries to give up their hard, wary shell and stretch out in child­like glee. All while I stand cap­tive to what I see but do not see. Then […]

At that time, my dad had bought an old truck.  He said to my mother, “Prissy, we are going to load all these kids in the truck and we’re gonna drive to Pine Bluff.  There’s a spir­i­tual man com­ing to church who believes in prayer.  I’m gonna fast and pray that we’re going to go […]

Peb­bles   Every­thing, every­where, a memo­r­ial seen from the cor­ner of my eye; a puz­zle piece, a part of a recon­struc­tion, a mem­ory. A mes­sage – I am still here with you, for you. Like a spy, I read code left in a news­pa­per or flash­ing past on a com­puter mon­i­tor, rec­og­niz­able only to me.   I carry a peb­ble in […]

Alex would stop by in the morn­ing on the way to the shack where Nathan kept the two trucks down by the rail yard. Louis liked to wait for his cousin on the back step. He would watch Alex step­ping up the street, at one moment firm and quick in his stride, then just as […]

It starts sim­ply, in sep­a­rate places. The seed takes root.  It winds through the soil search­ing for mois­ture. The trunk sprouts soft and vul­ner­a­ble, then its hard case stiff­ens as the cold wind, bit­ing rain, steamy sun buf­fet it. The tree grows. Across the path, another tree grows too. Both trees spread their boughs wide, present […]

The ice forms sur­rep­ti­tiously, against all prob­a­bil­ity, when win­ter takes a river.  The pieces form inad­ver­tently, bound by the cold, and col­lide into each other, adhered by the quick­en­ing of the silky black water.  It’s like a crowd of sum­mer lilies — but it isn’t.  The pieces of ice are jagged and uneven, thick and […]

This is how we age, the way Fall unfolds, not all in a rush, but in pieces and slow, at night when we sleep and the body cools. We’re young still in parts, the ver­i­ta­ble green shoots of youth sprout­ing through the enflamed palette of age, the stag­ing of decay. This is our most profound […]