I’ve wondered for a long time now what it meant to be Joseph Cressy’s grandson. I’ve written a lot about him since he died six years ago. On the night his lungs failed, I found myself in the front yard of my parents’ house on a swing hanging from the branch of a maple tree … Continue reading Spirit Reports Chapter 2: Joseph
Take to your holds, your windswept hovels and your ships quarters. Below deck, down the old oak folding ladder with speed, and nearly run right into the center table where we ate dinner, built by my grandfather, suspended on a clever balance, like the stove, and the lanterns dry of oil. Take to your headaches … Continue reading Arthur Kill Ship Graveyard
From this vantage, I see you of so missed childhoods, of the white canvas sails of Wild Harbor's rocking vessels. You would have painted her with watercolor on thick paper, and I with my pencil. Where the Knob extends out onto the sea, it is covered only by the sky and the flickering trail of … Continue reading To a Man With a Pipe, Unused for Years
Ryan Shockey Davis 