I draw a circle with a stick, so big I have to walk a ways to join its ends. Dust rises as I drag: steam from a train, smoke from a pipe. Pa smoked a pipe and it smelled fine. My circle is a farm for my animals. Right now they live in my dress, in a pocke...
I loved her chair. It was covered with material, olive-green and ribbed, and elasticated in a fascinating way. When you pulled it and released, it snapped back to the chair's frame, shooting out tiny clouds of dust like bombs. I could have done that for h...