Those motionless dark eyes gazing out between the layers of oil and pigment and top coat, painted 400 years before my mother even dreamed of
more loveDear Ice Bear, Though you might find this letter as an expression of my affection, (and that much is true), I believe that the things
more loveAn hour and a half north of Syracuse, I veer my rental car off the interstate. Pastures flank me on both sides, houses dot the
more loveA would-be poet and photographer from Tidewater VA, I struggled to find my niche at Dartmouth in 1982. I didn’t like contact sports. I didn’t
more loveI’ve waited long enough, let enough time pass. It’s time now to say what kind of thing it was and put it out of mind,
more loveSitting on a beach chair next to my newly married wife on a quiet Californian beach was nirvana. I held the hand of a person
more loveI look at him in exasperation. My eyes squint out my own form of Morse code stating, “You don’t have to check on me.” I
more love“Stick your finger in my butt,” I whispered to my wife, Lisa. She obliged. I cringed when she penetrated me and later, in refraction, I
more loveMost of their adult children lived out of state, yet my husband’s parents called them every Sunday. Carl and I lived nearby, and they
more loveDear Milena, If these words and letters ever reach the green fields of your beautiful scrutiny, please forgive their rough appearance. They have survived many
more loveWhen he was born, he had a hole in his heart. It wasn’t a big hole, but it was enough to pronounce its significance through
more loveWe lay together, spooning, my head on your shoulder, wild blonde hair in your face, which you push away good-naturedly. Your arm is draped over
more love