drmstream[writing]

My sense of self and my pri­vate desires got boxed in a mile high in the sky yes­ter­day. I almost didn’t make it through. I was fly­ing out to Los Ange­les for a busi­ness meet­ing. I had a win­dow seat in the front of the plane. An attrac­tive and com­posed young woman sat in the […]

When you walk into a grave­yard, there is nobody there. There is no sud­den rever­sal of time, no enlight­en­ing con­se­quence of the human mys­tery unwound by a talk­ing head­stone, or a friendly ghost, or a time switch that leaves you snug­gled against your grand­mother dur­ing a rag­ing bliz­zard. You can’t turn the cor­ner of the […]

I wrote a story once about a young man who works in a tai­lor shop.  He was lis­ten­ing to the radio.  His name was Joe Gib­son.  A pretty girl comes in and he takes her mea­sure­ments.  He presses her breast.  He’s aroused and bash­ful.  She doesn’t even seem to notice.  The song Melan­choly Baby was […]

If once the boy within us ceases to speak to the man who enfolds him, the shape of life is bro­ken and there is, lit­er­ally, no more to be said. – Sean O’Faolain This is how it starts: fin­gers poised, your imag­i­na­tion press­ing at your joints. Then you hit the keys, click, clack, click, clack. The […]

I know I left my glasses here some­where. At any rate, it doesn’t mat­ter. This lit­tle boy likes to watch the TV. He thinks he’s grown out of snug­gly toys. The things he doesn’t know, right? Like, he doesn’t know that the best feel­ing in the world is when a lit­tle girl squeezes me so hard […]

Here, Saripu­tra, form is empti­ness and the very empti­ness is form; empti­ness does not dif­fer from form, form does not dif­fer from empti­ness; what­ever is form, that is empti­ness, what­ever is empti­ness, that is form, the same is true of feel­ings, per­cep­tions, impulses and consciousness.

When you can feel it, when you look out onto the field, smell the dry dirt under­foot, feel the grip of the stiff blades, when you pour your­self into the pitcher’s body, that’s when real­ity is sus­pended and you are nei­ther on your seat nor on the field. You pack the ball in your glove. You […]

Step out from behind your counter and walk to the door to take in the brisk after­noon air of this gloomy Spring day. You always look down Beale toward the river, where the sky is lighter. It’s been a slow morn­ing, been a slow day, been a slow month, the city on edge since the […]

Pond in sum­mer, taken with iPhone4, retouched with pho­to­gene I Wan­dered Lonely As A Cloud I wan­dered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o’er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daf­fodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Flut­ter­ing and danc­ing in the breeze. Con­tin­u­ous as […]

In the moment that he held her his world was silent. This was the silence of awe. It was unfa­mil­iar to him. He felt like every­thing that was mag­i­cal and impor­tant in his life, the libraries he had sat in, the sketches he had drawn, the excite­ment he felt as he made a point that surprised […]