Thursday, June 30, 2022
An orange cat stands in the middle of the road watching me. I get closer, its tail goes clockwork. I tell it to get out of the road and sure enough a car appears. The cat is surprised, jumps, turns low and finds the curb in a hurry. This is how a tiger would look in someone’s driveway. I can’t resist stopping and call the cat over. Just like a tiger, it’s wary. Funny, now it decides to look both ways for danger. I guess I’m more than 40 miles per hour and wheels. I scratch its neck and around its ear before I leave.
Posted by allen frost at 11:22 AM
Wednesday, June 29, 2022
Tuesday, June 28, 2022
Monday, June 27, 2022
I still have dreamlike memory of seeing gondolas over Seattle. It’s been my wish for a long time that there will be a string of them going up and down Sehome Hill. Imagine the views of the trees and rooftops and the bay. Windmills turn on the water’s edge. We’re up where the ravens see the world. Out the window, the other way, you can see the distant snowcapped mountains. Why can’t the future be a wonderland? If we can picture it, it’s real somewhere.
Posted by allen frost at 3:11 PM
Found this old receipt in my copy of 'The Grapes of Wrath.' (I also bought 'Sweet Thursday' and a Heller novel that day). One of my favorite bookstores was Old Books, in Brunswick, Maine. It had a great street entrance up rickety, creaking wooden steps to a slanted hallway on the second floor. There was a frightening dentist office to the left! Old Books was at the end of hall on the right. A cardboard painted sign. I remember the feeling walking in there. The lady at the checkout desk. There was a big Marx Brothers poster. I've written about the store a few times in my own books, most recently in my soon-to-be-published college novel.
Posted by allen frost at 10:34 AM
Friday, June 24, 2022
Thursday, June 23, 2022
Wednesday, June 22, 2022
She looked at the ceiling in the office and asked me, “Are those fans new?” I told her no, they’ve been here for years, the Wright Brothers installed them, that’s how old they are. Taken from the wings of their flying machine after it crashed in Kitty Hawk.
Posted by allen frost at 8:56 AM
Tuesday, June 21, 2022
In the Meadows River, the sound of an outboard motor. The boat carves through the channels, little islands, some no more than shoals, poke from the water. Coming up is Monkey Island. They chatter in the pine and how they like to swing and throw mussel shells. The shallows are a field of eelgrass. The motor stops. The hush as the hull rushes over the weeds and skates up the stones onto land.
Posted by allen frost at 3:55 PM
Friday, June 17, 2022
They stand in the field, a big group of them, all ages, holding binoculars and cameras. The guide leads them closer to a thicket and that’s where they spot their first rabbit. Ears poke above the weeds. The excitement flutters. Then someone points, “Look! There’s another!”
Posted by allen frost at 8:31 AM
Thursday, June 16, 2022
Thursday, June 9, 2022
Monday, June 6, 2022
Thursday, June 2, 2022
As I was walking past a tree, a bit of it fell off before me. Nothing so big as a branch or broad leaf, it was small, only an inch, and landed without a sound. I thought about it and turned around and went back to get it. Here it is in my hand. A tiny square of soft bark like a postage stamp. All mossy on one side, I search for letters on it, something a centipede might have written before it shut the window up there and realized the shutter had fallen off.
Posted by allen frost at 1:36 PM