drmstream[writing]

This is how I would describe the dark­ness to you. What you see is in front of you, filled with hues of light and shadow. I see out the back of my skull through pin­holes. Noth­ing moves. If you ask me how I feel, I will want to tell you that I am sus­pended in the air […]

  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 […]

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 […]

  This is part of how it works when you write: the ideas come in frag­ments, start to form into peo­ple, places, sto­ries. You take notes on your imag­i­na­tion and then start writ­ing it out. Some­times the story flows and stops and some­times you feel your way into it. I was clean­ing up my hard drive […]

Take your heart and wing it over the hill, baby.  Lis­ten to the rat­tle and the glim­mer.  It’s the bounc­ing noise that comes waft­ing in on the spring air, that opens up all the warm spots in your hands, that sinks low in your mir­ror­ing won­ders, that slows down and makes all the sense that […]

Scene I The lights come up and reveal a grey, empty room.  Our per­spec­tive is at an angle; two walls retreat to the back of the stage and join in a cor­ner in the deep recesses of stage right. The lights dim.  Ocean sounds fill the air, the swell and wash of the water, a building […]

Part V: Greet­ings (This is Uncle Sam) I take the long way to the train sta­tion most days so I can drive past the place where the tor­nado touched down two springs ago. It was like some­one made up the whole thing when we heard about it. We don’t get tor­na­does. But one day a tornado […]

  I What use are feel­ings, but to bind you to some­thing that doesn’t exist and can never be recov­ered? II Open the hollow-core door under the stairs.  The oil heater is pushed against the bot­tom of the steps.  Indus­trial green.  Soot stained where the main­te­nance man shifted his weight to push the igniter back […]

Part IV: I Know I’m Los­ing You — Once?  You fucked her one time!  Just once?  You fucked her just once?  A lit­tle whore and you stuck your cock inside her and just once is sup­posed to mean some­thing?  Like that makes you a good guy?  Maybe that’s why you’re telling me its just once, because […]

Part III: I Know I’m Los­ing You — Your love is fad­ing. — What? — I can feel your love fad­ing. It’s fad­ing away from me. — You don’t sound very orig­i­nal, Adam. — I’m not. — What is it then? — I thought you’d know. — Don’t give me a hard time. — The Temp­ta­tions. I played it for you the […]