Author: CONNORMCW

Almost everyone is dead  at the place where I work.  I used to take the incessant  tippety-tap  coming from all these rooms  for typewriter sounds  but we converted to PCs  so many years ago  and the noise remains  so I’m sure it’s the bones when we move.  And the things we approve of!  The deals…

When first I wake next to you,  in the last of the darkness,  I will lie quietly and watch  you sleep. It will occur to me  how thankful I am for my eyes.  I memorized the geography  of your body long ago,  before you knew how  near to fire you stood.  Were I blind, I…

I mark your absence by common things  and find you everywhere.  Sitting here at my desk, drinking tea from the green cup  (and though I speak no Chinese,  I can write the symbols for Sun,  and Spirituality,  and Love) ,  making these words  with the pen on which you engraved  my name  (and your name,…

Words ripen, fall from the lips  and are gone,  the dewfall of thought  that conceived them mere affliction.  Everything that passes  between us is carried  on the breath of a lie.  If we have withheld love in anger,  if feeling is tranmuted  without sound or forethought  does the will stand?  The will stands,  finds a…

I work in the fragile echoes  of an imagined life  where goodbyes are spoken  and never meant.  There is a television playing in another room  or perhaps people are talking  in the way that they do  when they share secrets,  but in any event  I hear the talk.  A woman loves two men.  Moments become…

It was 1965 and my  mother’s office was giddy  over their first Xerox machine.  I rode the bus downtown.  Mom bought chicken, donuts  with chocolate icing  and cokes at Woolworth’s  lunch counter and we  ate on a bench  by the reflecting pool  at city hall.  It was the best day.  Later she made a copy …

After awhile and at last, hello, the phone jittering across the desk and appropriately just ahead of my grasping hand. Just and only hello, really, and everything else mere implication and inference filling the space between. A lot of space, so much that I wonder if my narrative, starved by exile has taken to writing…

When you said this year was going to be different I thought  you were just making conversation.  When you told me about the yoga classes  and how it was all his idea,  I thought you were just poking fun.  It was later, after the passage of several weeks  and the unreturned phone calls  that it…