Friday, April 24, 2009
I’m sitting at a table beside my father’s uncle, Archie, who died in 1985. We each have a full mug of coffee that’s much too hot to drink. My mug is the heavy glass one I usually use for tea. His is the shiny black one a friend gave me a few years ago. We switch mugs. Now the coffee is much cooler. We switch back. Hot again. I say, “It looks like someone is trying to tell us something.” Archie smiles. Obviously, that someone is him.
Added this morning to the Annandale Dream Gazette.
Recently Linked: My thanks to Iyamabo, J E, for signing on as a follower of Recently Banned Literature. He joins us from Nigeria. Thanks also to Greg Santos, for quoting and linking to my short review of Sitting Pretty Magazine in his blog, Moondoggy’s Pad. Greg is the poetry editor of pax americana. And thanks to Navid Nikkar for linking to the title page of my Early Short Stories in this post of his Farsi-language blog, My Footnotes.
In the Forum: scribbles, cross-outs, doodles, and faces.