Tag Archives: life

Fall Haiku

Posted on January 13, 2014 by Jim Stewart

Faded, fluttering, falling; the wet driveway holds fast to my eye, true color. (photo courtesy of photography.nationalgeographic.com)

Posted in Haiku, Oregon, Poem, walking | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

Excerpt from The Last Salmon

Posted on January 10, 2014 by Jim Stewart

(Note: this is a quick excerpt from my story The Last Salmon (first published in Rattapallax). It’s also in my collection White Ravens–And More Stories (click the link to the right).–jrs) He almost missed his turn. The flashing yellow light … Continue reading →

Posted in American history, Excerpt, Reprint, Short Story, story excerpt | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Coyote Ruins a Dog

Posted on December 23, 2013 by Jim Stewart

On the other side of the fence was chaos and death, at least that’s how it seemed when the dog took off and scared that squirrel right out of his thick fall fur and into the coyote’s grinning mouth. The … Continue reading →

Posted in American Indian, Cheyenne, cowboy poetry, Coyote, Dream, Lakota, memory, Oregon, Poem | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

When That Gregorian Calendar Rolls Over

Posted on December 9, 2013 by Jim Stewart

This time of year the anesthetic wears off and the nerves around your heart fray into syncopated buzzing lights that remind you of how the way you want to be differs from the way you are. The Accountant opens the … Continue reading →

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Nice Guys Get To Finish

Posted on December 7, 2013 by Jim Stewart

He stares loosely into the golden blue depths of her eyes, watching the dark shapes swim there, keeping to the shadowy deep. He guesses them to be piranha and decides not to go swimming. Maybe tomorrow after another long hopeful … Continue reading →

Posted in Poem, Sex, Slice of Life | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Stuff

Posted on December 6, 2013 by Jim Stewart

A hanging bicycle the sleeve of a coat the chopping block by the woodpile the woodpile a motorcycle a car with no doors an unfinished model boat car doors a pile of papers on the counter a pile of papers … Continue reading →

Posted in Aging, memory, Poem, Reprint, Slice of Life | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Follow the Light

Posted on November 15, 2013 by Jim Stewart

Shadows beginning to form as the light brushes your window. Sunrise just moments away, I can hear the dawning wind blow. Moving across the moon, a flight of albatross, they follow the light and go home. Your body’s as thin … Continue reading →

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