“I guess I misjudged how quickly the darkness falls.”
— Heather Roth, from the novel Heather Girl
copyright 2018, joseph e bird
this morning the skies are gray and the air is warm and dry like a mid-summer day.
this morning i stopped at Tim Horton’s and got a cup of oatmeal and a black coffee.
this morning i sit in my office planning for a day of phone calls and emails, and too little design.
this morning when i was young i worked outside tilling the soil and tending the plants and earning callouses on my hands.
this morning the birds call out in the quiet, reminding me of the days i worked the earth and toiled in sweat.
this morning it’s quiet inside, but soon the phone will ring and my day will start and i’ll forget this thought.
this morning i want to go outside and hoe the ground and smell the richness of the compost and eat lunch in the shade.
this morning the train rumbles on the tracks two blocks away and the bus roars by and and a siren wails.
this morning, like any other morning.
copyright 2018, joseph e bird
I’ve kind of been viewing Pokey LaFarge as a little bit of a novelty act. They may be completely quirky, but these guys are incredible musicians. Don’t believe me, check it out. That dude on the harp is insane. The bass player is slapping like it’s nothing. And yeah, the guitar player is pretty good, too.
what’s that building?
it used to be a store.
a store?
people used to go there to buy things.
what kind of things?
clothes. paint. medicine. watches. televisions. tools.
why didn’t they just order it?
it was different then. people wanted to see what they were getting.
why?
i don’t know. something about feeling the heft of a hammer in your hands. seeing how a watch looked on your wrist. or shoes on your feet.
seems like a lot of trouble.
i guess. sometimes they’d sell hot dogs out front. or brownies.
why?
cheerleaders raising money for uniforms. veterans helping veterans.
what’s a veteran?
people who went to war defending our freedom.
war is bad, isn’t it?
yeah. it can get complicated.
why is there so much pavement in front?
people used to drive cars.
you mean ride in cars?
no. they actually drove cars. everybody had a car. they’d keep it at home and drive it to the store.
no way.
yes. and they’d leave their cars all over the pavement while they went in the store and shopped.
that’s just crazy.
maybe. but it worked. i met your grandmother in that store.
was she shopping?
no. she was a cashier.
what’s that?
we used to buy things with money. dollar bills. coins. we’d pay the cashier before we left with whatever we bought.
grandma was a cashier?
i went to the store a lot. bought things i really didn’t need just for the chance to talk to her.
why didn’t you use an app?
you can’t flirt with an app.
why do you need to flirt?
you don’t. it’s just part of the dance.
you danced, grandpa?
oh yeah. we danced, all right.
so what’s with the rocket?
beats me. we never did figure that out.
The first photo is the former K-Mart in my small town, closed just a few weeks ago. It’s unsettling how deserted the parking lot is now. To the right, just out of the frame, a Kroger store continues to thrive, so it’s not quite the apocalypse. Not yet. The sign in the second photo is soliciting tenants for the vacant building. In the background, across the highway on the riverbank, is the rocket of St. Albans. I’ve lived here all (most) of my life and have no idea why we have a rocket on the riverbank by the highway.
images and story copyright 2018, joseph e bird
sunday morning
by myself
and it’s cold
in the shade
of the tall buildings
as I unlock the doors
of the parish
a full hour before
the service begins
and I know where
she’ll be sitting
her hair falling
onto her shoulders
her brown eyes
and that perfect
practiced
professional
smile
because she is an
actor
like so many are
but she really is
and she is so
nice and friendly
and unpretentious
and
perfect
so perfect
and I can
do no more than
look her way
when she lingers
afterward
by the heavy doors
reading her bulletin
waiting
she has my heart
without knowing
but she is
perfect
and I am me
and the holy
and the profane
can not
be together
but I speak
and
she smiles
and I ask
her name
and I shake
her hand
and I tell her
my name
and I ask
where she’s
from because
everybody has
come to new york
from somewhere else
in search
of
something
cincinnati, she says
now I’m smiling
I’ve seen the
reds play there
I’ve skated
on the ice
at fountain square
and looked out
over the city
from the top
of carew tower
and I turn off the lights
and lock
the heavy doors
and she waits
in the cool
sunday shadows
and we walk
together
in the new york morning
copyright 2018, joseph e bird
“Although the fig tree shall not blossom,
neither shall fruit be in the vines;
the labor of the olive shall fail,
and the fields shall yield no meat;
the flock shall be cut off from the fold,
and there shall be no herd in the stalls.”
Do you hear me? Do you understand? There will be bad times, brother.
In my eighty-one years, you better believe I’ve had them.
Three years ago I lost Nita.
We’re supposed to get wiser as we get older, and I guess I have.
Even so, loss is hard and lonely.
Here’s what I know.
Listen, now.
“Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.
The Lord God is my strength and he will make my feet like hinds’ feet,
and he will make me walk upon mine high places.”
I didn’t always know that.
When you’re young, you think the fig will always bloom.
You think there will always be fruit on the tree and cattle in the stalls.
Now don’t be thick-headed. You know what I mean. Even if you’re young, you know what I’m saying.
But this isn’t my story. It’s Trevor’s.
Trevor for sure didn’t know.
To this day, I don’t know if he’s taken hold of the truth.
It’s not profitable for a man to express his faith in these days, and when you’re young like Trevor, you’re not inclined to go against everything the world says is right.
One has to be tried, tested, and hardened by fire.
That boy.
He’s a remarkable boy.
— Maxfield Martin
copyright 2016, joseph e bird, from the novel A Prayer for Rain
i’m a kid
riding my bike
near my house
and another kid
rides up and says
Hi.
I’m Chuck.
so many years ago.
i’m a teenager
riding in that
unbelievable green
GTO convertible
with Chuck driving
his father’s car
singing old Black Water.
so many years ago.
i’m in college
rooming with Chuck
and he’s up all night
recording music
on his reel-to-reel
driving me crazy
because he’s Chuck.
so many years ago.
i’m at Fat Daddy’s
Chuck is the DJ
and everyone
is dancing
and all the girls
want to dance
with Chuck.
so many years ago.
i’m standing
in the church
getting married
and Chuck is standing
with the others
and all the girls
smile at Chuck.
so many years ago.
so many years ago.
so many years ago.
i have moved
and live near the
very place on
the same street
that i rode my bike
and met Chuck.
so many years ago.
i am older
as is he
and we haven’t talked
in decades
and time
and distance
separated friends
so many years ago.
and then i hear
that Chuck
was in an accident
and his pain is great
and his recovery long
and it hurts
because he was my friend
so many years ago.
i am here
he is there
i’ll send him a note
i’ll say a prayer
and hope he will
dance again
as he did
so many years ago.
i write words
that seem shallow
and inadequate
to try to capture
the spirit that
he shared
with me
so many years ago.
so many years ago.
copyright 2018, joseph e bird
Heather Roth has little to look forward to.
The alien overlords have enslaved Earth’s population. Her two sons are working for the cyborg underground and her brother is the head of the Benevolent Alien Reconciliation Federation (BARF), which seeks to create a more peaceful world through mind control. On top of all of this, Heather has a really nasty cold that just won’t go away.
And then she learns that her father is being paroled from the penal colony on Jupiter’s moon, Europa. Which, as it turns out, is really not a big deal because he’s being assigned to work as a cook on the aircraft carrier Nimitz, which has been repurposed as a floating sheep farm.
Then Heather finds an old guitar, learns three chords and leads a musical revolution based on Nickleback songs. The aliens leave.
A story of mathematics and free verse, Heather Girl takes the reader on the ultimate emotional journey, culminating in a long nap.
Joseph E Bird 