E Pluribus Every t-shirt he owned said something in Latin. He owned more than 11 t-shirts, but less than 23. When traveling on a train headed east from Portland, Oregon to Portland, Maine he tried to count the number of t-shirts. The train maintained a constant speed over mountains, canyons, rivers, and fields. He could […]
Tag Archives: Mike James
Mike James
You & You & You & You If you were a hat you’d be a fedora, brown and sweat-stained, still good for winter weather and rain’s summer surprises. If you were a feather an ostrich would be minus one. If you were a puzzle you’d look nothing like the picture on the box. No summer […]
Mike James
Ingmar Bergman Contemplates Silence on a Beach This is not a swimmer’s beach. The water is cold year-round, as if cursed by a witch. No matter how many years of waves come ashore, the rocks don’t wear to smoothness. Each is a flint knife, water sharpened. Hard shoes are needed. There are summer days when […]
False Confessions by Mike James
The time you panhandled for tattoos. The monthly payments for transcendence. All the famous people either waived at or had orgies with. The time you found the burnt wreckage of flaming shoes. Childhood spent tossing pennies behind the Red Dirt Cabaret. The mother who worked as both a nun and a stripper. The medical journal […]