childhood
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On family trips when I was eight, nine plastic, primary-color cowboys, Indians, soldiers, animals fought and romped in a synthetic, nappy, dark-blue rear-window battlefield meadow Other times, it was a fuzzy ledge on which to lean, and watch the road fading, while my mother half-jokingly admonished me to turn around, see where I was going, Read more
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At age seven I nearly killed the pubescent birch tree anchoring our Minneapolis backyard stripping it of all its bark, roots to four feet up – the physical limits of my fanciful reach As Mrs. Kime’s most intrepid first-grader I planned to build a birch bark canoe, ala the Chippewa we were studying, but my Read more
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Smiling broadly from the bottom step from yellow-and-black command ship my forty-two pound, thirty-seven inch Neil Armstrong plops dustily down Successful touchdown, Tranquility base. Home, The Eagle has landed. Perfect timing; his silver-and-black supply case is depleted, as is he. Time to replenish, explore local terrain, relax, recount the day’s adventure Pausing, he then runs Read more
Ponderable polemics, poetic 