Views and Mechanics Publisher's Note Review of Down to a Sunless Sea Review of Words of a Feather Creative Nonfiction Burning Men By Gerard Sarnat Integration By David Caplan Hands Across the Sea By Jennifer Mazik Poetry I Can't Wait Until the Resurrection By David Halliday Dashing With You By Mick Joyce Island of Hong By Mick Joyce Fiction The Price of Shoes By Sandra M. McDow Jeux d'Esprit By Julio Peralta-Paulino Feed Me, Pet Me By Stephen Dorneman The Lovely Peasant By G. David Schwartz About the Contributors © 2008, River Walk Journal and respective authors and artists. All rights reserved. Do not use or reproduce without permission. River Walk Journal, Inc. Board of Directors Chairman - Elizabeth Ross Vice Chairman - Joseph Koch Secretary/Treasurer - Geri Stock-Ross Editorial Director - Patti Kurtz, DA Literacy Director - Kenneth Weiss, Ed.D Policy Director - PA State Rep. Jess Stairs Advisory Board Chairman - Patti Kurtz, DA Asst. Chairman - Dan Lachenman, PhD Samuel Hazo Christopher Leland Edwin Yoder Joseph Bathanti Journal Staff Publisher - Elizabeth Ross Editor-In-Chief - Joseph Koch Senior Editor - Patti Kurtz Editor - Elizabeth Murray Copyeditor - Kathy Skaggs Publicity Director (PA) - Geri Stock-Ross For information about submissions, visit http://www.riverwalkjournal.org/subs.html. Questions about promotions, subscribers' services, and advertising should be sent to publisher@riverwalkjournal.org. River Walk Journal, Inc. is a non-profit corporation run entirely by volunteers. For information about volunteer opportunities and internships, visit VolunteerMatch. |
Notes from a Journal V The windows are open today; taking advantage of the warmth that will flee in a couple days. Onion snow will probably be in the air soon, if the weatherman is accurate, and the thought of it makes me both cringe and be a little thankful. Normally I would be crawling the walls by now, wanting to spend as much time as possible outdoors, but not now. I wish I could hole up for a while, taking in the peacefulness of solitude. The complaints of weeks past over the tenacious cold have melted away, and I can’t bring myself to stow away snow shovels in a bizarre desire to need them once more. It is a frustrating malaise that keeps me homebound when I can help it. It keeps me from sorting clothes, weeding out the heaviest woolens for storage, and releasing the lighter layers from their winter homes. I pull them out one piece or two at a time, as I need them. Sandals next to heavy boots in the foyer are fighting for supremacy. I stare at Kafka’s two-sentence story of the man who needs a street window if he wishes to connect with others, and how that same window pulls him out into the fray of humanity even when he doesn’t want it. The birds are singing outside my window, and the cat is pushing the beaded curtain aside to spy on her impossible prey, being permanently homebound herself. She’ll curl up and doze on the arm of my chair soon, tired from her fifteen minute long exertion of bird watching. One second she is staring out, pale green eyes on gray and white fur, and the next the fur takes over, swallowing the orbs. At night, after a short hunt for imaginary prey (she played all the mice to death last year) she retires to her bed. She allows my youngest son’s father and me a little space to slumber, creating a warm and furry wall of Jericho between us. I envy it. A lift of sleep interrupted by short times of largely meaningless activity is far more palatable than one of rushing to accomplish other people’s wants and needs. She is like Kafka’s trees, solidly planted in our home, but always seeming like she could be uprooted in a moment through a door carelessly left ajar. I feel that impermanence daily, age beyond my years creeping into my bones. Genetics and careless youth have taken their toll; long stretch sessions are shared with the cat each morning just to start moving. I make my way to the window, and stretch my roots downward to resist the vortex of the outside world. Elizabeth Ross |