drmstream[writing]

a place for things that don't have a place elsewhere

Category: observing

The night walk

  When I was young, I was in the habit of lying in bed in the falling night. I was wait­ing. When I would rise from the bed, my body stayed behind. This room of my child­hood was no dif­fer­ent from any other room, in any other house, in any other place. My bed rested […]

A Haunting

The man who built the house was killed in the bent south bed­room by a woman who was not his wife, but who moved in with the widow to con­sole her. A dark chasm stretched beyond the win­dow. Gen­er­a­tions later Tim put his red sol­diers in a line at the horizon’s fold and dreamed of […]

Kishimi and the gift of knowing

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 […]

What makes our heart quicken

  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 […]

Don’t turn our backs on the Brothers Grimm

She’s get­ting car­ried off to the evil witch, cap­tured by her demon mon­keys who were sent out to col­lect the inno­cent intruder.  Look at the Tin Wood­man doff­ing his cap, Dorothy sit­ting at the edge of her seat like a lit­tle girl at the movies, and the winged mon­keys wide-eyed and intent. Where’s the fear? There’s […]

The woman-tree with a dog

  An image was stuck in my head. I saw a sin­gle tree in the dis­tance. A dog stood beneath it. The vista was all greys and whites and blacks. The dog and the tree were soli­tary but sep­a­rate. The image evoked some­thing nec­es­sary and almost for­got­ten. I went to Flickr and typed in the […]

How can you like a killer?”

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 […]

The Boy who became a Pastor

Last week a man was killed in a car crash in Uganda. He was a pas­tor. He was also one of the most mean-spirited and vicious peo­ple I have ever encoun­tered in my life. He made me ques­tion what Evil was. His death has prompted an out­pour­ing of sor­row from peo­ple touched by his min­istry and […]

Old Jon stands by the trash heap

This is where I am: An old man dying from can­cer, but still vital and bemused by the inten­sity of life, is walk­ing on a dark path that runs behind an old house down the hill to the run­down apart­ment build­ing he lives in. The lit­tle patch of woods is the byprod­uct of a geo­log­i­cal quirk. Millenniums […]

The seeing of not seeing from Alison Jardine

  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 […]