Charles Vandersee

Sitting at her brother’s drawing board, pale wood, color of her skin, she said she was drawing . . . conclusions. The way she said it she knew they would laugh, and they picked her up for ice cream. Later she remembered that, and later, after forgetting it, she remembered again. There was . . . . Continue Reading »

The name of the one organbuilder was Craft, the other Dream, both descendants of an ur-figure. Creation. To graft metal to wood, not to look askance at fanatics in the guise of shepherds, and to listen with both delicacy and might was required. A duration. Death . . . . Continue Reading »