Goddess of Weaving
Or maybe I was right to be scared. Maybe my parents only told me giant spiders weren’t real so that I would let my guard down.
The Glorious Summer the Ceiling Fell In: A Plan for a Poem
I’d personify the pigeons that crowd onto the narrowest of ledges on the building across the street, their plumage flashing psychedelic green and pink.
Encounters of the Patron Kind: Three Memories from Work at a Public Library
I’m not allowed to comment on the items that patrons check out, so I try not to pay attention.
This Old House: Things I Learned Time Traveling
It is in the repetitive ritual of opening and closing the house each day—unrolling the broken shade by hand, wrestling with the deadbolt on the warped front door, seeing age—that I find inexplicable revelations.
A Pindaric Ode for the Paris Gay Games
So, in order to commemorate these tenth Gay Games, I have decided to pen my very own over-the-top, saccharinely sincere Pindaric ode. Let’s hope it’s not, well, terrible.
Teaching When You Shouldn’t Have To
What I’ve keyed into is the difference between learning as a victim and learning as a perpetrator.
Pete
All I know about the donut scene in Champaign, Illinois, I owe to a man named Pete.
Chess Bots
The people I know with whom I’ve recently played chess are similarly much better than me. When we play, I view it more as a self-esteem boost for them than a real contest.
Getting Around in Sicily
“Sì sì sì sì,” he said. The letters had rearranged themselves in Italian. This is how we would communicate.
Solitude and I-80
And then—after all that hectic activity—all I had to do was drive. For five hours. On the same road. Beside a repeating pattern of corn and soybeans.
