Furnishings
As February nears, poetry returns. This one is from one of Port Angeles’ finest, Jerry Kraft.
Birth of a Solipsist
I was on my lunch break one cold afternoon when I had life-changing realization. It hit me like a spoon that cracks an egg, and my yolk seemed to spill and fill up the world–indeed, become the world. I would apologize to you if you found my words confusing, but I don’t find them confusing myself, and in a moment you’ll see why I have no worries about being misunderstood.
The Cellist
Dimitri stood on a door step in a suburban neighborhood on a quiet Sunday afternoon. He pulled a piece of paper from his…
Tour De Farce
Emily had always assumed that someday she would grow to be a wise, old woman with refined tastes; as if the knowledge of fine wines and fine arts would simply come with gray hair…
The Off Hours Winter Reading: Booze, Babes and Biting Words
Our literary maven, Heather Logue, went to The Off Hours’ Winter Reading on Thursday night, and lived to tell about it…
Heralding A New Day In Seattle Commentary
Good day, all, and welcome to the Seattle Star!
There are a few things you should know about us as we begin the process of rolling out our site, the first being: We are still under construction. Think of what you’re seeing as a soft opening for a restaurant. Yes, we’re open for business, but not everything is as it should be for it to feel whole.
Yearning
I do not want to be
remembered for my urine.
In this I differ from
the chowchow and Welsh corgi
who yearn to soak the earth…
Scorpion Fable
There once lived a young scorpion
Who was always sick from her own poison…
Whenever she’d strike with her tail,
The back of head would get impaled.
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