On a bright summer morning
I take out my guitar, and weave
Songs out of nylon-stringed vibration, each
Note a tiny thread in my tapestry. I make Continue reading
Since we are now several months into the coronavirus pandemic, I realized that we all approach the pandemic differently. In this collection of comics, I decided to illustrate the difference between the approaches of three different people. I hope you enjoy looking at this piece.
Dear Rabbit,
I see you. I see you following me. I see the way you cross the borders of my vision and my imagination. I see the way you jump from house to house within seconds, peering through windows, hanging from doors. I see you hop through my peripheral vision, stake yourself in lawns, swing yourself from banners. I see your face, your ridiculous face, now cartoonish, now realistic, white or brown.
This is a bona fide account of something that actually happened, written for your education.
For most human beings, at least, spring is a time of remembrance. You remember warmer weather. You remember the flowers you’d forgotten you’d had. You remember the way rain feels and sounds and you remember the pair of shorts tucked away in your closet for the past four months. But you forget a lot, too. Some of the things you forget about, like hot chocolate, is taken personally. Very personally.
My family has a fountain
Out where the grasses grow.
I like to watch its visitors
And see them come and go.
February 14th
Best day ever! After sitting in a store for so long, I’m finally going home. I don’t know what or where home is, but I’m going. That’s so exciting. A man came and paid for me (paid for me–so outrageous) and now we’re going home.
Hello. My name is Assorted Floral Arrangement. It says so on my tag. I come in a little red vase with a little red box of chocolates. I’ve got roses, carnations, and different kinds of leaves. And, if I hadn’t mentioned it before, my name is Assorted Floral Arrangement. And I’m going home!
From exclamations
Of pain from touching hot oil,
Delicious flautas.
Once there was a little tomato which was just starting to grow. It looked like a fat green pebble which hung happily from the tomato plant, bathing in the rain and enjoying the sun.
I opened the door into the office. A window on the far wall. There was a desk and a secretary with a machine at the desk. A book was propped up in front of her, which she was reading as she filed her nails on a long, angular object. I stood in front of the desk for a while. “Yes?” she asked finally.
“I’m here to sign out.”
The three weeks wore on. I didn’t always have fun. It was my vacation, after all. I had worked to earn my vacation, back on Earth. I was supposed to be having fun, not wasting my time teaching alien kids. Why was I here? It was my vacation! But at times I halfway enjoyed it, which was odd because I never really had an interest in children, alien or human. But the kids were cute, the concepts were easy, and I spent the rest of the day reading, or swimming in the indoor pool adjacent to the large building, or walking the halls, peeking into the windows at other classes. Once I saw another class, older then mine, with a frizzy-haired woman in the front reading aloud from a book. “X plus five equals eight,” she read.