PIE MINISTER; OR, SOUL AND FLESH IS ALL I HAVE

You lie there in bed, sick, weak, aching, foul, wet, damp, greasy, slimy, reddened, gross, itchy (but there’s no energy to scratch it), exhausted from doing less than nothing, the virus vibrating through your body like a cheap and tacky marital aid, the room grim and gray and cold, so cold, the dim light poking … Continue reading PIE MINISTER; OR, SOUL AND FLESH IS ALL I HAVE

WHEN I DIE

Barring sudden violent unexpected death between now and Twenty-Fifty-Something, when I die it will be of old age in a cozy cabin on the North Shore of Lake Superior, isolated among the pine and birch trees. If I’m lucky, I’ll realize the time is upon me and settle into my favorite chair facing the window … Continue reading WHEN I DIE