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In Another Room I Am Drinking Eggs From A Boot

Posted by oedipamaas on

by Frank Stanford

What if the moon was essence of quinine
And high heels were a time of day
When certain birds bled
The chauffeur is telling the cook
The antler would pry into ice floes
Swim with a lamp
And wed be shivering in a ditch
Biting through a black wing
There would be boats
There would be a dream country
The great quiet humming of the soul at night
The only sound is a shovel
Clearing a place for a mailbox


Second time around…

Posted by oedipamaas on

This is my second attempt at a long running blog.  I kept the previous incarnation of this site going for 13 years.  Which is a really long time in blog years.  And then I went to Cambodia and Thailand and somewhere during the journey, in Phuket, I lost my credit card.  And I also forgot it was tied to paying for the hosting of my long running blog.

That’s ok.  Life is full of loss and those blog entries weren’t that great anyway.

Here’s my second attempt to get things right.  Including my writing life.  For whatever reason, it helps me to keep a blog.  Maybe it’s the imagined audience?  I don’t fool myself that anyone actually comes here and reads anything I write.  It’s more a vehicle to remind me to write outward, here and there, and to enjoy the endeavor.