writing
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What to expect when you’re not really expecting anything anymore
Genie inherited a stack of photographs from her grandma. They were in rough shape. They had not been in direct sunlight, but they’d been near it. By an attic vent, in a clear plastic container with no seal, loose. The weather had rocked the container. Crossbreezes. Mist from rain. Hot air, cold air, dry air, Continue reading
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Tracks
It’s six a.m. and blue this time of day this time of year. It reminds me of when I used to take moonlight walks as a boy, in Montana. Green creek pitch black. White ditch grass gray. Alfalfa as purple as its flowers. Fence posts silhouettes. That kind of blue. The moon. That kind of Continue reading
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To do 8/10
It’s gotta be melanoma. How I’m gonna die. Gotta be. I used to joke that I went through three noses a summer, for fuck’s sake. Burning and peeling and burning and peeling. And of the parts of my body that didn’t molt, family and friends with skin as white as mine used to admonish: you Continue reading
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Netflix
Dark when I wake up again. When it was becoming light out early, back in the spring (end of winter, early spring) I began already to look forward to this time of year. To write in darkness in the morning. To read by lamplight at night. August When I lived in Montana, I skipped a Continue reading
About Me
Yes, about me…
todd of tacoma 