Let us postulate Hamlet had knocked up Ophelia,
Quietly, on the sly.
And, before dying, she gave birth.
What would their many-times-great-granddaughter be like,
Would she ever be able to make up her mind?
“Freshly divorced, I drive from Miami, Florida, to Durham, New Hampshire, with my new girlfriend, who is headed for grad school there. We arrive a day early and decide to spend a night at Ogunquit Beach in southern Maine, a place I’d enjoyed greatly with my ex-wife and now want to reclaim as a single man. A depressed man. A browbeaten man. But a single man, choked with possibility.”
This series, which I call The Further Adventures of Admiral Dot, combines two sources. One is a set of newspaper illustrations published in 1915 as part of a publication called “How Man Learned to Fly.” (I found these on the PBS website.) The other source is Wonderful Balloon Ascents, by Fulgence Marion, published in 1870. These pages I found on the Public Domain Review website – my go-to place for source materials.
Afterwards, once the neighbors
were gone, the curtains shifted
back to the places they had
occupied before, the water
in the potted plants surged
into the saucers beneath…
At 4:44 a.m. on Monday, May the 2nd, as many as four or as few as two assailants forcibly entered 1319 Paige Ring Court, smashing a plate-glass door at the back of the house to gain entry. Once inside, they rifled through drawers, dressers, closets, at some point overturning three chairs in the den, elsewhere toppling an armoire and credenza – ‘credenza’ is misspelled on the report – and, on or around the hour, murdered Jim, Marianne, and Arianna Thompson, 58, 56, 14, by strangulation.
Ten years old is the worst age ever. Betsy’s too young to be interested in boys and too old not to be scared of them. She’s too young to drive or get a job and too old to play with her Chatty Cathy. And while she’s smart enough to realize that every member of her family is crazy, she hasn’t a clue how to fix them.
My father had an unusual book that rested on his work desk. It was worn and brown. The covers looked hard, almost like a box. When I was a child, from my view at four feet, the ends seemed tinted, a marbled brown design, chipped at the edges. I imagined it to be a case, a chest filled with things I might find interesting or valuable. I wanted to look inside.