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The Last Sunday
The Last Sunday of Summer Today is the last Sunday of summer. I go back to school tomorrow. A whole new ride starts. I didn’t think about it until yesterday. God, I hate giving up summer. I became a writer this summer. Being a writer gives you permission to stay home and write. In fact, Read more
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Garden Success
All gardens need a boy. Read more
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Soccer Mom
Soccer Mom “When someone makes a goal, click this button and record the time here and the kid’s number here,” said Linda, the coach. She was pointing to two columns on an Excel Spreadsheet on one of those coach’s clipboards with the secret compartments. “They’re six, Linda, why do we need a spreadsheet?” I think Read more
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Summer Days
Summer Days People ask me how I spend my summers. I have few human relatives near me, so Norris, Madam, and Opal Pearl are the immediate family. The true answer is I spend my summers doing whatever I want. I met two and a half goals this summer, and I rarely set goals. The first Read more
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Collections
Collections Inventory Dishes Antique furniture My journals Cats 2 Dog 1 Twins Lotsa boys Almost two books Two published things I’m in a writer’s permutation of life at the moment. I collect books about writing and writing advice. I have writing friends and their books. I go to writing conferences and groups. I write blogs, Read more
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Snooty Defined
Snooty defined “‘Brook’ sounds too snooty, use ‘creek.’ You’re always putting on airs. Stop trying to be somebody you’re not, use ‘creek.’” said Mr. Barber. Shit, he was mean. I didn’t want him looking at my paper, not after what I’d just heard him do to Cynthia’s. He was right, of course, she was always…
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Today I Want…
Today, I want… Summer is a conundrum. I look forward to summer all year long, to be out of school and away from the stench of curriculum. I want to be away from pointing and clicking at things so trite and mindless that it makes me want to lose what little relationship with a creator…
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Tend
I tend a heartless garden. Once bursting with flowers blue ones seeds tossed from witch’s brooms on full moon rides, cold ones Belladonna blues widen your eyes enough show you Jesus through foxglove’s purple haze and sweeten the path with Camomile Come walk with me. I’ll show you.
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I Need Seven Letters
I looked at the board. “MEDICATE.” My letters covered all but the “C.” Upwords, the word game of all word games, and I scored sixteen points plus a fifty point bonus score. “Eat that!” Nick looked at me with fire in his eyes. Not even his Mama, Express of the Galaxy, Sworn Sorceress of All…
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The Teacher
Ode to a Teacher Hammat. John Charles Hammat. Unconventional teacher of the universe died last month. Taught for four years, my four years, enough to get one class through, and quit to clean houses and live however he chose. He’d had enough of public schools. He taught Drama and English, but I only had him…
Devonne Brown 