Author Archives: jonwolston

A purloined mother-of-pearl shell from Robben Island cradles my orange earplugs at the bedside. How lame I feel in the shadow of Nelson Mandela, how inconsequential. Have I hit as many rocks? A few fossils in Nova Scotia was about … Continue reading →

One day my parents left me alone in a butcher shop in Belgium. My uncle was buried outside the village in one of those cemeteries with zillions of headstones sticking out of the ground like white dominos ready to fall … Continue reading →

Last night I dreamed the Gipper was giving me advice on how to charm the Democrats and melt their lofty ice. I’ve forgotten all the details of exactly what he said– it was something about friendship and letting them eat … Continue reading →

I’ve had enough of head wounds. God keeps on slicing me open, when I’m not looking. I blame it on the dusk or silly Troy or one glass of wine and I curse like Aeneas. If God hadn’t knelt down … Continue reading →

I like J.D. Salinger’s pine trees– white like he is, so white he looks like winter, old man winter with bark for skin, enduring Dachau’s sins all these years with his love of innocents, still standing with boughs so protective … Continue reading →

I dreamed I lay down on the sidewalk and everybody joined me. “Curb your enthusiasm” I wish I’d thought to say.

Brick sidewalks curl up like a python underfoot, pasted with red leaves. Shiva is so smooth. His black Bengali carvings shine, millennia later.

My soul lay squirming, too chagrinned to look my way or speak. Your light’s too harsh, my soul declaimed, for playing hide and seek. This comes as a surprise to me, these parts of you, I said. You all can … Continue reading →