Praha Ticho

He prostrates himself on wet cobblestone. He rests on his knees, keeps his head down, and holds his arms stretched out holding a hat with a few coins inside. You look at his fingernails first. They are black, grimy and chipped. His hands, crusted with dried blood, shake slightly. He is wearing dirty clothes: black... Continue Reading →

Main Street Rain

Misty rain blows over the dark storefronts along Main Street.  Cloudy, windy, dreary gray drizzle— it floats down kissing the streets & rooftops & awnings & fence-posts & gutters & road & buildings & trees & grass. It blesses everything with its touch. The same cold wet sheet pulled tight at the corners over low... Continue Reading →


  Any given day My father is awake at 5 am.  He makes coffee in a brass pot in the kitchen, pours it into a porcelain mug, and drinks it black. He walks slowly to the garage in his socks, lights up a Pall Mall menthol, and looks at his tool bench.  He goes to... Continue Reading →

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