the sword of damocles

Around the corner from our house is an old red-brick Victorian that’s seen better days. With three stories and a wrap-around porch, it must have been nice once.   But last winter the roof of that wrap-around porch was leaking. By January, a giant icicle hung over the front door like the sword of Damocles hovering above anyone who came in or […]

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blog: the beginning

In my mid-twenties, I lost a journal. Number 71, it detailed the death-throes of a young love that was old way before its time. Sometime in the midst of a wild night, the journal slipped into a river. It might have sunk to the bottom and stayed there, trapped by the rim of an old […]

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