drmstream[writing]

Part Two: What’s Going On? Reck­less, urgent, hun­gry? Seiz­ing the moment, mea­sur­ing out rea­son to sus­tain the mad­ness needed to make that true love take root in the dri­est ground? Empty, des­per­ate? — What do you think of me? — You’re going to take over the world. — Is that why you won’t open up to me? Soft, chocolate […]

It is time to leave now. When it started, it was time to go.  Pick up and go from your home.  Take a bag.  Go live in this ‘camp’ behind barbed wire fences and men with guns. You have nar­row eyes.  Your lips are thin.  Your skin is dif­fer­ent.  You have to go away. Because you might kill […]

- Get your gun. — I’m watch­ing… –Get your gun to show the boy. –Hit that record thing for me. –I said,  Go get your gun. –You work that thing then. –I got it, Grams.  I’ll make sure you don’t miss any of your show. — All right then. — She’ll be back before any­thing hap­pens.  Ain’t noth­ing hap­pens on that show […]

- When you found me, you rec­og­nized me. –What do you mean? –You know who I am. — No, what do you mean, When I found you? — You found me. — We found each other. — But I wasn’t look­ing for you to find me. I was look­ing to find some­one. I just didn’t know what it would mean. — I […]

You could tell when he got up to the podium that he had seen some­thing that he couldn’t leave behind, that time had stopped and he was claw­ing at it. He was the last speaker for the night. He wasn’t pol­ished. His hair was uneven, plas­tered on his fore­head by a layer of sweat. The suit […]

    My face is blank.  Soft skin.  The hint of lines.  More like you than not like you. You don’t like to see my face con­tort, its plas­tic­ity mak­ing anger, joy, sad­ness, fear.  When my face con­torts you think I look wrong. What we’re taught:  Keep your feel­ings in check.  Make the sad things feel better. […]

She wasn’t young any more. You can’t get a new life & still be young. The lines that were miss­ing on her hands were set­tling in her face. March 4, 2011 2:49 pm via Tweet­DeckReplyRetweetFavorite @drmstream drm­stream Beth kept her kit in the bot­tom drawer of the counter at the cor­ner of the stu­dio. The […]

The orna­ment lit up in his hand. It felt like magic. Kevin took it home & wrapped it in paper. When I get my big house, he thought. March 1, 2011 2:29 pm via Tweet­DeckReplyRetweetFavorite @drmstream drm­stream This is one of a series of sto­ries that I have been telling on Twit­ter.  Each para­graph is […]

The pump house froze up last night and when we came down­stairs all we got from the faucets was a thin trickle of water. I pulled my boots on, picked up a shovel and walked down the lane to where the path cuts across to the pond.  The pump house is built into the dirt there, […]

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 […]