tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62938512011-07-29T09:59:58.546-04:00The neccessity of excess.juniperfluxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02472288938393638301noreply@blogger.comBlogger101100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293851.post-53321077691933250512007-05-27T12:58:00.001-04:002007-05-27T12:58:40.041-04:00

“Are you afraid of the dark?” he’d ask once they were both tucked up beneath the blue sleeping bag she’d been given for Christmas, a gift from her father, who had promised to take them camping. “No,” she’d say softly, knowing that when he asked these questions that he was looking for a specific answer. Her little brother often quizzed her about the things she was afraid of, as though her

juniperfluxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02472288938393638301noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293851.post-1161597454247280162006-10-23T05:57:00.000-04:002006-10-23T05:57:34.260-04:00

Sitting on the font porch, I hatched a planmade of bare feet and a glass jarwith three holes punched in the lid.The night smelled of passing rain,and my fingers ached to scratch an itch,so with wet grass between my toes,and the strength of blood red clods beneath me,I stood.Watching until…one by one they camefilling the yard with constellations;a thousand tiny, blinking suns.Into that sea, I cast

juniperfluxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02472288938393638301noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293851.post-1160885781552059692006-10-15T00:10:00.000-04:002006-10-15T00:16:45.873-04:00

Once, when I was a little girl, I got into trouble for "talking back to my mother." My brother was arguing with her husband about something that had been lost or misplaced -- both blaming the other for what had happened. My mother, who’d been keeping score with the occasional flick of her cigarette, said something like "Tom never misplaces things" or some other ridiculous blanket statement about

juniperfluxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02472288938393638301noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293851.post-1156330198115512422006-08-23T06:48:00.000-04:002006-08-23T06:49:58.133-04:00

As the plane began its measured fall back towards the earth, she felt her stomach turn. Though she’d never taken it off, she noticed that the seatbelt sign was once again lit, but it did little to reassure her. And as she closed her eyes in order to avoid conversation with the flight attendant who was still peddling peanuts and soft-drinks down the cramped center aisle, she remembered the day

juniperfluxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02472288938393638301noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293851.post-1155563216791724442006-08-14T09:40:00.000-04:002006-08-14T09:46:56.813-04:00

Afterwards, she turned her face to the wall and pretended not to hear him leave the bed. For a moment there was nothing, but when the shower clicked on, she had to swallow hard to keep the drinks he’d paid for down. She felt trapped by the sheets that had gathered around her feet, struggling wordlessly to free herself until finally, with a grunt, she kicked them to the floor. Then, she waited.

juniperfluxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02472288938393638301noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293851.post-1155057030461839432006-08-08T13:03:00.000-04:002006-08-08T13:11:35.296-04:00

He took the small, black notebook out of his pocket, and held it flat in the palm of his hand. Closing his eyes, he could almost feel its soft cover mold itself around the tips of his fingers, as though the shape and curve of his hand alone contained the secret password needed to open it. He lifted his tattered hat and let the breeze run its fingers through his unruly curls before placing it back

juniperfluxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02472288938393638301noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293851.post-1153561836065310462006-07-22T05:48:00.000-04:002006-07-22T05:50:36.076-04:00

If I'd been Jenny Greenwe'd have pedaled to the placewhere the trees smell different and the wet streets sound strange against our tires. We'd ride untilthe rain drove us back and our mothers called us home. And maybe, your field would've been oursand after sandwiches in paper bagswe'd search the skies for faces and you'd teach me the names of birds. Later, you'd pick the parsley from my hairand

juniperfluxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02472288938393638301noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293851.post-1152711663386712622006-07-12T09:27:00.000-04:002006-07-12T09:41:03.406-04:00

All his life, he’d tried to convince himself that he was naturally attracted to brunettes. He’d felt this somehow made him more interesting, if only to himself. And yet now, sitting several tables away, in a quiet corner of a bookstore café, he’d managed to clock a blonde. It had been impossible not to notice her, not so much because there was anything about her that particularly demanded

juniperfluxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02472288938393638301noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293851.post-1152477573910975722006-07-09T16:38:00.000-04:002006-07-09T16:39:33.926-04:00

When her rounds were finished, Nelda pushed the half-full cart into her room and quietly shut the door behind her. “Good night, Nurse Nelda,” one of the day nurses called to her, but without response, save a tittering of laughter from the other whitely clad professionals who were huddled around the nurses’ station in preparation for the shift change. Emma looked up from the tray of meds she was

juniperfluxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02472288938393638301noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293851.post-1152325471069082182006-07-07T22:23:00.000-04:002006-07-07T22:24:31.070-04:00

Bounding from the school bus, I’d rush home wheremy mother waited, wrapped in a spiral of thin smoke.She’d tap the sofa next to her and I’d lie there,my head in her lap, as she counted the mass of freckles on my nose while whispering in my earthat she’d spent the day missing me. I believed her.Later, when afternoons meant lonely rides homeon packed city busses, with house keys on cheap chains,

juniperfluxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02472288938393638301noreply@blogger.com0