October 26th, 2018 § permalink
The tree is on the corner of Harmony Boulevard and Ravinia Road — they give the streets silly names in the graveyard.
I read a few more of the names into the recorder I brought with me that ride day in July, but I couldn’t find the good recorder that morning. What tape I have is minutes of crackling and wind. I make out odd words like “pine cones,” “birds,” “Symphony Shores” and “I ask why, but HUSBAND Harry Davies (1880-1949) won’t answer.”
I’m typing this in October and I can’t remember why I found the graveyard so loving. » Read the rest of this entry «
August 24th, 2018 § permalink
At the end of Bubbly Creek, the southern fork of the Chicago River’s southern branch, where the meatpackers once dumped blood, guts and industry, where the bubbles of carbonic gas once burst in “rings two or three feet wide,” to quote the muckraker Upton, where men gathered filth for lard, skimming in scows the fat of the water, a tattooed bartender checks her phone waiting for the craft brewpub to open. » Read the rest of this entry «
April 8th, 2015 § permalink
She was Lucy Bruise, Rat Face Ratticus. Her hair’s been long and platinum, mohawked and spiky, completely shaved or finally a growing-out undyed. Her body is a canvas of tattoos, from elaborate Baba Yagas to stick-n-poke mallets advertising the Punk Rock Croquet Club of which we’re both founding members.
“Sup dood,” the email read. “I hope you’re doing well.” » Read the rest of this entry «