Tags » William Stafford

Ah, Winter

Every winter, I shovel a path from the woodshed to the back entry, and another from the kitchen door to the compost pile, a hand-cut maze around my house. 188 more words

February 4: "What's in My Journal"

Odd things, like a button drawer. Mean
things, fishhooks, barbs in your hand.
But marbles too. A genius for being agreeable.
Junkyard crucifixes, voluptuous
discards. Space for knickknacks, and for… 55 more words



“And there’s nothing else missing?”

Derek Bradley scowled at the policeman.  “I don’t care if anything else is missing.  They can take the whole bloody house if they want.  609 more words

William Stafford

Fish Face

“What is the meaning of this?” Sly bashed at the roof of the carriage with the silver top of his cane.  “We appear to have deviated from our customary route home.  587 more words

William Stafford

Table 13

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Millie looked up from her Kindle and into the steely grey eyes of a tall man in a black suit.  622 more words

William Stafford

January 23: "Monday"

Awake, like a hippopotamus with eyes bulged
from the covers, I find Monday, improbable
as chair legs, camped around me, and God’s terrible
searchlight raking down from his pillbox on Mount Hood, 154 more words


but you are far away

I was an unexpected child–my twin brother was the only one the ultrasound detected, while I remained in hiding, somewhere, unfound. I escaped the radar thrice. 143 more words