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Lori Witzel
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116 followers
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Recipe
Daniel Beilinson, " Khimki Forest ," 2011 We’d starve if we couldn’t stomach the bitterness. Even after a soak, that cold stream hadn’t washed out enough from acorn and oak to unbind the tongue, but we must eat. (Our hard-times bread not much more than a mu...
Recipe
Recipe
chatoyance.blogspot.com
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Profligate geometries
zeevveez, " Gnat Balls (2) ," 2013 Every day, about an hour before sunset, a cloud of small insects floats, Brownian and swirling, near the apex of an invisible pyramid (the base, a complex alignment of dahlias, catmint, three red flowering currants; the ed...
Profligate geometries
Profligate geometries
chatoyance.blogspot.com
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Etiquette
I whisper my apologies to the dead sotto voce, here where moss and lichens mottle more than one child’s name. Is it common courtesy or superstition, to ask those buried for forgiveness as I walk on their graves? Is it something that can be forgiven, that I ...
Etiquette
Etiquette
chatoyance.blogspot.com
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Pitch
I’m a tarpit into which every moment falls— sunlight raking across bricks and into broken windows of a warehouse along the Hudson; that bramble thorn piercing the cupid’s bow of my lip, kissing me bloody when I was seven; the gauze of my great-grandmother’s...
Pitch
Pitch
chatoyance.blogspot.com
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Fritillaries and emperors
Photo by Kevin Faccenda Where I live, the alder leaves are dropping— banked sunlight paid up from longer days, fugitive gold weighting them down until, at the first north wind, they give up their grip. But I’ve gone somewhere else, gone to an open-air memor...
Fritillaries and emperors
Fritillaries and emperors
chatoyance.blogspot.com
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Zigzag
I wanted to walk down to the river, had to pick my way sideways on the slick path, a labyrinth downslope. The dead white of mushrooms I’d crushed while sliding down, shredding at the slightest touch. The mottled, blood red leaves under a big-leaf maple. And...
Zigzag
Zigzag
chatoyance.blogspot.com
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Pet
Charles Soule, Jr., " Boy with Dog ," 1860-65 I'd imagined she’d been called far worse names than bitch, the biting curses almost forgotten now. She was with him, she was for him, his protection from loneliness, the depredations of his living rough, broken—...
Pet
Pet
chatoyance.blogspot.com
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Willamette
The silt-slipped skin off a mounded barrow clouding inlets as the rain carries a wet dust down, tears mixed with mud on my cheeks. Deckled edges—oak and cottonwood leaves turning to coal, slime mold tumuli, drowned grass. A slick of algae greases where I st...
Willamette
Willamette
chatoyance.blogspot.com
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Late afternoon
H. Pellikka, " Kaleidoscope ," 2005 Dream-memory fragments, crumbs left in the bottom of a sack full of childhood places—as if I had eaten them all, as if I could. Places I’ve lived, sweet and salty as popcorn disappearing on my tongue: dandelions pushing a...
Late afternoon
Late afternoon
chatoyance.blogspot.com
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Friday
The cat sits glowing in the sunlight that pools on the bed. She’s forgotten to tuck her tongue in after licking my thumb, and leans into my hand, and purrs. The sun teases her (she’s so damp, cowlicked from her ablutions), setting opalescent diadems that ca...
Friday
Friday
chatoyance.blogspot.com
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