Traffic muddles you, Jacob, in your quest for certainty. Stars fall through the freeway. Like a horse, your dreams pull you in syncopated time, speak in short sentences. Life in Denver melts into puddles of sun and dusk sometimes with friends, exhausting like pine needles smelling the smoke of oatmeal. Beyond the clouds, the monsters search for meaning’s childhood. But those college courses only take time. A bottle of darkness opens the channel between islands. A cone of light offers you company and keeps you safe again. For a moment your bed comforts you. You snap the silence with a string.
work has appeared in Salon.com, I’ll Take Wednesdays, On The Bus, and several anthologies. She holds a BA degree from Antioch University and an MS from the University of Southern California. A midwife, cellist, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, Tova has studied with Jack Grapes, Tresha Faye Haefner, and Taffy Brodesser-Akner. She and her husband live in Los Angeles.