Kenneth Young
Stories (4/0)
Blue
ocean weathered paint covering hand smoothed boards each year renewed --- The desire to enter spawned the quest for an image. Rejected skies with varying degrees of cloudedness. Wood reminded me of the decks, handrails, and walkways down at the coast, some left natural, or pressure treated, others painted to preserve them from salt-spray and sun. Roughed boards, damaged, possibility of splinters or worse, but many were from well-loved sections of a walk, and had a mix of hands, shoes, and bare feet smoothing them down.
By Kenneth Young2 months ago in Poets
Maude
Consider this a peace offering. I hadn’t expected the text. Cher (no relation) and I had been together for a decade, which meant that our fights had developed their own routine. The aggrieved party (usually Cher), would stew about their complaint for a few days, visibly, but not talk about it. This gave the offending party (usually me) a chance to reflect on what they might have done wrong, and, if lucky, apologize for the correct injury. If this weren’t successful, then the confrontation would happen, the aggrieved party and offending party would yell. Sometimes one or both of us would break items of little value.
By Kenneth Young2 months ago in Fiction
Feminism
"Feminism is the radical notion that women are people." - Marie Shear (1986) As a white american cis-male from the middle class, my voice is probably not the one you most want to be hearing right now. In baseball terms, I've already got my three strikes, plus one, even if you're being generous. If that's the case, and you're not familiar with her, check out Marie's wiki page linked above, and run with it.
By Kenneth Young2 months ago in Humans
