DiaBLOGue

Yes Culture

The brussels sprouts were good, the falafel was good, and the fries were better than good, but what Farmer and the Seahorse did spectacularly were its bathroom stalls. They were narrow and wood-walled with thick…

The Power to Judge

I stood in a winding stone corridor. At the end of the hall was an inviting bright light. Unclear as to where I was, I slowly and carefully headed in the direction of the glimmering…

The Ultimate Battle

For it must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things. If not so, my firstborn in the wilderness, righteousness could not be brought to pass, neither wickedness, neither holiness nor misery, neither…

Sonya

Sonya has been sober almost a year—six months in treatment and six months on her own—and goes to AA meetings at noon or at 7:00 p.m. (sometimes both times) every day. She smokes Camel 100s…

The Investigator

We shall be driven to great extremities. I know not what to think of it. Daniel Defoe, Journal of a Plague Year By the end of the fifth wave, people didn’t want to hear about…

My Dream

In sleep voices fall upon me once againwith bladed-tongues that run against their teeth. The voices’ chorus a grind of bone sawsand caliper-fingers that force openmy mouth to let loose words. Thousands of wordsbled from…

The First Wound

The Good Doctor Muses, Beetle-pupil swell, perpetually redhalo-iris fist-sized and yellowed-tearedthe abscess winks, another eye for Godto see sticks shake in our hands over sodas we water witch the fields desperateto pay the lancing fee.  Can…

Healing the Wound

The Good Doctor Muses,Will You be bound? And I Remember,Surgeons ask and tapmy swollen shin and splinter the skin to leechout the infection. The leather straps snapin calloused hands while others reachinto cowhide and pigskin…