The Girl With The Rain- soaked Eyes

Seated at a roadside table

Her knee pressed yours

One timeless moment

You can’t forget

The girl with the rain soaked eyes.

She holds sorrow as a mother holds a newborn babe

Gently, softly

And you are young again and safe

In the arms of the girl with the rain soaked eyes.

You’ll say you’ve moved on yet find yourself lost in the folds of her dress,

young again and it’s your first kiss

While night turns away, she circles back

And you are a moth to light

For the girl with the rain soaked eyes.

She paints roses.

I grow them.

She listens to Julie.

I listen to Kat.

She favours lean prose.

I toss word bouquets across the page.

She’s a realist.

I’m a hopeless romantic.

My mother, her daughter.

Magdalena’s Rose

• Kat Edmonson

• Julie London

Summer of ’51

The San Joaquin Valley is an endless canvas. Fields of emerald stretch for miles. There’s a cow. Gone. Sheep drift and settle like clouds. Gone. Wind whips my face. Palm trees appear as if out of place. I inhale the sweet smell of citrus.


Is this Heaven? I don’t believe in God. Somewhere else there’s a war. What’s this holy feeling pressing down on me? If God exists, he’s hiding in those mountains. I’ll pray for all you suburban squares and do gooders.

This is truth. The southern sky  laces crimson before it turns dark. At this pace, we’ll roll into town ahead of nightfall. Hills bank and the road snakes on. Up and down, up and down. This is life.

My buddy Jack, shouts above the Indian’s drone, “Long, hot summer ahead.” 

At the last moment, he’d dropped his tools and joined me on the road. People don’t ask too many questions. We travel light and fast.

I nod. Freedom, man.

There’s no itch for smokes or shots. Cruising an open road is enough of a high. We’ll find a tavern where the drinks are flowing, somewhere after sunset.


~Summer of ’51, ‘tidal prose’

Draft 4

R. Jackson

aliceandmolly vintage label

aliceandmolly home

For the French girl or boy in you. Make a simple room diffuser. Choose a bottle or jar. Cut a few rose canes- it’s the perfect time to prune. Add condensed rose water to the bottle and several drops of rose essential oil. Wine and Baudelaire.

― “It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.” 
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

Rose water and essential oil are available at most grocery stores that sell natural products.

He was dying.

My fingers laced his.

“I love you,” he said. “I always have.”

From his fog, he painted me six words. Six words that formed a scene of a child and a father.

She reaches up. He reaches back.

Six seconds on the blade edge of time.