Category Archives: small stone

Small stone, Vol. 2, #23

The refrigerator gurgles and hums, the soft vibrato of the compressor like a brook on rocks; somewhere upstairs a neighbor runs their kitchen tap and the water rains down the building’s pipes, and I hear the gentle rumble of bare feet on wood floors; the hard disc of my laptop whirs as it awakens like a birdContinue reading “Small stone, Vol. 2, #23”

Small stone, Vol. 2, #22

Cold like a bullet, it rolls between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, that tiny jagged crown where the stem once was pressing a rough circle into my palate. It is so ripely firm it will not burst until I break it with my teeth. Then, oh! the tang and natural sugars, that succulentContinue reading “Small stone, Vol. 2, #22”

Small stone, Vol. 2, #20

Flag-themed fruit breakfast, bald eagle through a waterfall, grilled cheese and lemonade for lunch. Frisbee in the park surrounded by bikinied sunbathers and stocky, muscle-flexing softball players. A cramped bus ride, fireworks over the river downtown, freaks and drunks and street-preachers at the bus stop, tired crabby Americans all the way home. Exactly as itContinue reading “Small stone, Vol. 2, #20”

Small stone, Vol. 2, #19

Wind in the pines, the earthy scent of someone’s organic wheat bread overlaying the wash of rose petals and loose soil. Children giggling, a Korean woman translating a botanical label for her elderly mother, two French women remarking on the moss climbing the trunks and the sift of light through the branches, a tourist laughingContinue reading “Small stone, Vol. 2, #19”

Small stone, Vol 2, #17

A long, long silence. Open the phone, close it. Check the ringer. Longer silence still. All this patience, all this waiting: such an exercise. Then, late in the evening with a plane passing overhead in the twilight, my wife calls to tell me she has arrived safe in the US. So close to home.