Stones Do Not Lie to Bones

After decades of wandering, after life itself had turned me down, I retraced my steps back to the octagon altar. Vines had overgrown the stones that I had once known and a coldness hung in that space beneath the trees. In my mind, I shambled and dragged by broken body...

Last Dance at the Confiteria Ideal

by Kevin Carrel Footer For 20 years, Diego Alvaro Zoraida Fontclara have hosted the Friday afternoon milonga at the Confiteria Ideal, one of the sacred places of tango. Like me, many people learned to dance or took their first tentative steps in a real milonga on...

Slingshots

by Kevin Carrel Footer Like those great outer space explorations where they shoot a rocket around a planet and then use the momentum created slingshot-like to careen ever deeper into space, I have long ricocheted through a constellation of women. Twinkling, blinking,...

Far-Off Trains

I grew up in the Oakland Hills in a genteel community called Piedmont. If you parted the trees that surrounded our town, you could see San Francisco shimmering across the bay. Most of my friends’ fathers worked there in the skyscrapers that shaped that famous...

Count None but Sunny Hours – Fragment #1

“If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.” – Gospel of Thomas 1. The Octagon Altar In the garden there was a place where the...

Even Angels Have to Charge a Fee

I once had a tee-shirt, now long lost, that I picked up at the annual gathering of hobos in Britt, Iowa. On the shirt was an image that showed a hobo with a staff striding down the railroad tracks. Around it were the words “Graduate of the School of Hard Knocks and...