Torsade Literary Space The Mirrors (part twenty-eight)
The Mirrors (part twenty-eight) “I was thinking of Carolee. I can’t interview her.” “Hmm…maybe you can. But ask me first.” “I wonder about Charleton. If he was depressed over the work, felt coerced, Old Dumain would have been gleeful… It’s a funny word, I guess. But gleeful, making his grandson do […]
My Blog Week: November 27 to December 3
All the Latest from Torsade! Covid, for me, turns out to be low-grade and persistent. It started last Saturday and hasn’t substantially changed. I’ve had little bouts of chest coughs, and a kind of simmering heat that […]
Catastrophe (part thirty-nine)
Jean Hess La Catastrophe de la Martinique (part thirty-nine) They even itemized their facts: They said that for the common man, meaning the factory owner pressured by the weekly wage, the Bank’s new management did not accept his documentation, his receipts of deposit; the […]
The Mirrors (part twenty-seven)
The Mirrors (part twenty-seven) The garden went downhill, the mildest of slopes, a few feet of earth once dug from a field and carried by flatboat, wheelbarrowed load by load, packed to bear the weight of the Roback manse. Around the corner, a line of windows showed cellars below ground. Or […]
The Folly: Llewellyn at Home (poem)
Readers, I’ve been going through what seems a touch of covid, and not getting much work done (I feel pretty well overall, though, no worries). Here’s an episode from The Folly, worth a reissue. The Folly Battle Stations Llewellyn at Home Colonel Llewellyn keeps visitors to Chequerstone, […]
Wrong Again (poem)
Wrong Again This was better, more sensitive. But so much silence in his conversation-mate Must be a warning. “I’ve learned not to apologize.” He thought, Why me? A line of inquiry that promised to go badly. “You’ve learned not to apologize,” she said. The topic seemed to want a change of […]
Tired of Yourself (poem)
Tired of Yourself I think you get tired of yourself If you don’t, start The tea leaves haven’t got a plan to let you know You know it’s nothing to a tea leaf Patterning itself in broken flecks of hope Likelier having a cosmic joke Nothing to the flight of birds […]