Category: Random Sunday Notes

Notes culled from basement boxes and arranged like a vase of brown flowers. Sometimes they are published on Sunday.

NOTES FROM THE BASEMENT FILES When I pass the oven at certain times of day, like 3:50, I wonder if I’m heating something.  The numbers cease to be clock or temperature reading–just indeterminate.  I must pause, open the door, and feel for heat.  Then 3:51 hits and it becomes a clock again.   A shirtless […]

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