Sunday, March 14, 2021

3691.

 He found himself too tired to do anything except write. 

Sunday, February 28, 2021

3690.

 Grey sky, grey water wide and deep, gray light.

Wednesday, February 24, 2021

3689.

Sunlight, he thought, sinks into the river and harbor.

Thursday, February 11, 2021

3689.

He couldn't remember what he remembered, only what he had forgotten.

Sunday, January 03, 2021

3688.

At night, he realized we live surrounded by darkness.

Friday, October 09, 2020

3687.

 The tea would not steep fast enough.

Wednesday, September 23, 2020

3687.

 He realized he might die.

Tuesday, September 22, 2020

3686.

 In the darkness, he could sense the light to come.

3685.

 The cold air appeared at the very onset of fall.

Friday, September 18, 2020

3684.

 Whatever dies, he thought, is replaced by something worse. 

Tuesday, August 18, 2020

3683.

 Outside his window, he saw a statue with a torch looking away from him.

3682.

 Not as sound in the night to keep him awake, so he could not sleep.

Friday, May 15, 2020

3681.

In the light of day, ships lurked, motionless, in the harbor.

Tuesday, March 17, 2020

3680.

Their view out was cloudy.

3679.

The virus seemed to have infected their lives.

Monday, February 03, 2020

3678.

He watched light eke into the sky.

Saturday, January 18, 2020

3677.

Only that evening in an airport restroom did he finally realize the fly added to the urinal’s porcelain was there to ensure men would aim at the fly and always miss the floor.

Monday, January 13, 2020

3676.

He imagined he had nothing to think about.

3675.

He typed his live over again.

Sunday, January 12, 2020

Thursday, January 02, 2020

3673.

He lay awake thinking of the year of the rat.

Monday, March 11, 2019

3672.

It appeared there was sunlight.

Wednesday, March 06, 2019

3671.

He dreamt of a mountain of dust.

Sunday, March 03, 2019

3670.

He thought the tightness in his chest meant he might not wake in the morning.

3669.

He saw brown as lavender, but no-one knew.

Friday, March 01, 2019

3668.

What snows does not reach him.

Thursday, February 28, 2019

3667.

No bird appeared at his window.

Wednesday, February 20, 2019

3666.

He thought it might be an omen.

3665.

He had not done it since years before.

3664.

He could not stop remembering about forgetting.

3663.

The snow fell aslant.

Sunday, September 17, 2017

3662.

She whispers words as she dreams so he cannot hear them.

Saturday, September 09, 2017

3661.

Her uncle wrote his Social Security number on the smooth underbelly of his left arm and awaited the storm.

3660.

The sound was thunder or lightning.

3659.

He imagined windows in the wind.

3658.

She stayed awake until the dark.

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

3657.

He had a broken toe, so he placed it in a glove.

3656.

He didn’t say, “Goodnight”; he didn’t say, “Good morning”; he said, “Bye.”

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

3655.

He listened to her talk about the white man's voice and the black woman's voicelessness.

Monday, June 19, 2017

3654.

Late enough at night, he could remember how to forget.

3653.

The wind whistled through his windows, the sound mixing with the traffic below.

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

3652.

She was so far away from him that she imagined her as small as a pin and she filled his thoughts completely. 

3651.

He recalled a time when he could remember back that far. 

3650.

Sitting in the shade, he could not smell his sweat, but he could smell the bleach on his white shirt that his sweat activated. 

Thursday, May 28, 2015

3649.

He peed in the dark, away from everyone and anyone, sure that his warmth would cool the night.