James Andrew Miller

In the beginning there was no beginning; no no; no was; no in; no there—  nothing that was, was, and all that wasn’t,  inconceivable, and there was no one  and nothing, and anything, to care:  until such time—in due course—creation had begun So Mozart ages . . . . Continue Reading »

Tell me everything you know, the sapient sage asked the seeker, and, since the former was, in his role, an editor, the latter filled page after page of all that followed and preceded cause and wherefore and why and when. Which he gave to waiting world and bookman with a flourish, so: here’s the . . . . Continue Reading »

What do the living know about the dead? I was called upon to wonder when the well-meaning camp director’s wife who knew parts of my family asked where I stood in relation to the brother who’d died, she had heard. Died? I said. Yes, I believe, cancer, she said. Oh, I said, that, I believe, was . . . . Continue Reading »

I had spent most of Saturday, February 29, 1992, Leap Year Day, working through a stack of books and notes I was using for a major paper on Transcendentalism, due in draft at Cleveland State University in the Graduate English program. Sunday afternoon, too, was reserved for this endeavor. Sunday . . . . Continue Reading »