Author Archives: jonwolston

We are putting all the candlesticks away. Chris returned in haste to the Big City last night from our low-energy environment, our heart-chandeliers.

I passed the archduke his brown monocle in an envelope of pride. Pleased, he sauntered far to the brink of his green wood… arrested, arresting.

Patients haunted me last night. The gap-toothed client and the scalded man tore across my sod on motorcycles of sleep. Mossy castellations of hot shame soaked the feathered recess of my comforter till the sun came up and I walked … Continue reading →

Zeta came around today, nuzzling my wrist intently her red eyes glowering, nary a bite. In the yard Io made a racket and tracked in more mud when I came to the door. Their litter dispersed, black-and-yellow hairball diaspora, each … Continue reading →

In the snow cupboard plates of steely vacancy mesmerize my soul.

How I long to crunch                                                                                                                               your greasy rye to lick my                                                                                                                      fingers wrist and die to stem slow hot curds of Russian running towards a ruffian elbow farmer in the dill                                                                                                                                      allspice and bib overalls                                                                                                                         corned beef wunderkind.

I fixed the rudder                                                                                                                                      with three coats of spar varnish                                                                                                             over Thanksgiving. Ethan helped me out.                                                                                                                               The springs were too strong for an                                                                                                        old fart to put on. Yes, we embroidered                   … Continue reading →

Blue mountains shimmer.                                                                                                                       Big Squam laps my shore-rock throne,                                                                                    sanding my privates.

It’s only polite—                                                                                                                                        leave your shoes at the door.                                                                                                                  No need for your socks                                                                                                                            or for condoms, you boar. Mom’s waiting for you—                                                                                                                          take a breather, you goat!                                                                                                                        No need for the boss                                                                                                                                 to hand you a note. A bit … Continue reading →

I wait in the dark                                                                                                                                       as Troy drags his tawny jowls                                                                                                                 through red leaves, snorting.