THE SPIDER
The carnie wore a brass bracelet, he was missing a front tooth. When he looked down your sister’s shirt, she smiled. We all got on, slammed the pin into place, the bar jarred against our knees, the carnie pushed the big green button and up we went. Into the swirling sky, jumbled in the pod at the end of the giant leg, groaning and arching, circling and morphing the air, whirling miasma  of sky, rainbow, sky, rainbow, the Steve Miller Band blaring and fading. I loved your sister, she who let us curl at the foot of her bed on sleep-over nights when we were little and sc

Allegheny Comfort
(Sorry this essay is so flipping long. It was originally published in Rio Grande Review.) When you wake up, you notice that you’re here. Annie Dillard, “To Fashion a Text” I stomped up the narrow stairway to my dorm room at Allegheny College in Meadville, Pennsylvania. It was late August 1984, freshmen orientation week. Classes hadn’t even started yet and I wanted to drop out. I entered the room, slammed the door shut and sat in a desk chair. How quickly things had fallen apart, and ye

HORSES
Always, the learning begins with words. First are simple expressions, to be recited by a child. Back, tail, ear, hoof, nose. Then, others full of nuance and suggestive intent— mane, canon bones, bridge, wither. Once you learn the body you come to know the gear, its rich aroma of oil and leather, chocolate or deep black with gleaming rivets. There is the lead rope, the shanks, the bridle joined to the bit, the ready saddle. And after the mount there are more: words that move the rippling legs¾ walk, trot, yield, and finally, stand, when the animal rests, attentive to th