Author Archives: jonwolston

I remember dreaming I was waking up. So it’s this bedroom, I thought, the one with all the tiny chisels going day and night. I’d better see who’s outside, who that is making all that racket. My eyes struggled but … Continue reading →

I trip over Yeager again. Black on black, he’s hard to see. Lanky Nelly licks Lira’s sour puss. Black Zeta, our new champion, launches a charm offensive, scratching my shin. Retiring Io the Mouse Girl slowly endears herself to Nelly … Continue reading →

This news just in from the Chapel: The Pope takes a bite of the apple! It’ll give me the jitters if this fall he twitters, “Allo! Benedict je m’appelle!”

My roommate “The Quiet Nip” didn’t like clearing brush all that much. Our freshman advisor had this farm out in Etna, see? It all seemed perfectly natural to yours truly come October. I’d forgotten all about Pearl Harbor and I took … Continue reading →

Out on the black lake alone in the Whaler, the wind picks up. Thank God I brought a flashlight to color the buoys, tell black from red. My spray-wet chart curls up into cold uselessness. Black shadows of islands creep … Continue reading →

A vast expanse of sky dwarfs the land as bright restless clouds drift out to sea. In the next room Allen toys with wires. Jane’s off to market. Brown weeds wag their fingers in the bay wind. The septic’s grown … Continue reading →

Communion in mind, I drove right past the golf course. Where were all the carts?

During my third trimester the Berlin Airlift ended after 278,926 dogged sorties. Hundreds of thousands of cheering West Germans greeted the first land convoy in mid-gestation. And coal arrived every 36 seconds in the “Easter Parade” of 1949, as the … Continue reading →

An old cask of amontillado floats in Tokyo Bay while the House of Usher’s melting down Nagasaki way. My telltale heart lies beating on top of Mount Suribach’ dusting up rue Morgue Avenue and the paper house I watch.