drmstream[writing]

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 […]

The woods ran up to the edge of the pond and every Spring the snow melt would reveal old trees that had crashed to the ground in the Win­ter freeze. We would pick our way around the sod­den husks, pull rot­ten rot­ten branches loose and talk about which trunks would dry out firm and hard […]

  There are images that stay fresh and imme­di­ate years after they first occur to you. These are the images that tell you how you see the world. Metaphoric leit­mo­tifs. They are words but they are so real that we don’t rec­og­nize them as words. Our wiring fires and takes us out of the time Now. […]

  After spend­ing a year at a casual lit­tle place called The Red Feather School, I was sent off to pub­lic shool for sec­ond grade. It didn’t take long for the grown-ups at the school to take note of the kid who was always a cou­ple of beats off, looked con­fused and offered answers that were […]

This pic­ture was taken at dusk in early May in my bed­room. I was 17 and fin­ish­ing up my final year of high school. My class­mate Eduardo was respon­si­ble for tak­ing the year­book pho­tographs; I was one of the hold-outs on his list. I was shy and dis­ori­ented. I still have the pho­to­graph that Eduardo […]

  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 […]

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 […]

In the 10 years since my dad died, my life has changed in ways nei­ther of us antic­i­pated. I want to turn toward new things with him today. Decem­ber 6, 2010 2:19 pm via Twit­te­la­torReplyRetweetFavorite @Kcecelia Kather­ine Cecelia This day before Christ­mas is filled with antic­i­pa­tion and uncer­tainty. The gifts are assem­bled, the rit­u­als lined […]

My father was always the last guy to buy a Christ­mas tree.  He explained that the prices were cheap­est the day before Christ­mas.  He didn’t dwell on how bad the selec­tion was. So we’d be dri­ving along the coun­try roads a day or two before Christ­mas, look­ing for a tree stand that was still open and […]

What I look at in one moment doesn’t exist in the next. What I see I can’t remem­ber. I can’t see it ever again. What I try to meld comes apart, what I try to tell becomes inco­her­ent. Images con­nect and dis­con­nect like the spray­ing frac­tals of the win­ter sun­light play­ing on the ever fainter mem­o­ries that […]