Sundays when I was a small boy, my paternal grandmother watched the faith healer Oral Roberts on our Philco television. She was almost eighty years old at the time and nearly blind with cataracts. I watched with her because I was fascinated with television. An only child, I learned to entertain myself. I loved the …
Nights those Jesus bugs skimmed creek’s surfacemy bare feet glimmering like risen again I’d snuckpast date palms & horse corrals graveyardtrilling beyond highway & the boys & their shiningbodies I’d brought my own carried itwith me only newer stickysummer air & white flies circling streetlampswhat bliss was mine those moments beforeglistening rocks before shivering water …
The First of Them The first of the études always reminds her of a day when she was thirteen, though there’s no reason to remember this one day over so many others like it, while things were still good and summer meant beautiful blue skies with her parents lazing on chaise longues near the docks, …
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