little hill Archives - Typewriter Fox Studios

Capital City Consequence

January 29, 2023January 29, 2023 - by Typewriter Fox

More miles than meaning. And, that must mean something. Even if it’s just words quivering over asphalt. Chasing empty roads. Or another fragile dream stumbling down another broken Boulevard. Consequence. The dirty offspring of (in)decision. I tried loving myself once. I just never did a very good job of loving myself back. Because it was confusing. A foreign concept never properly explained in domestic fashion. So I learned other lessons instead. How to fight. First, with words. Then later, more deadly intentions. Soldier mode. A simple switch of humanity flipped off. Not with the heated gesture vigorously displayed towards an endless parade of shitty Michigan drivers. But the switch inside my head. That dark space too ugly to …

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Deer Prints

December 5, 2022January 22, 2023 - by Typewriter Fox

Broken trees bend in a familiar meadow. A cloudlessly blue Mitten sky hangs bright. Covering unsteady ground. But not taking any notes. Because nature keeps her secrets. Right along with mine. Not where the crawdads sing. But, down in the holler. Where foxes play. Fresh deer prints on the trail; vines stripped from all the pines. The ones pulled free and trimmed, to spark warmth in the chill of a star-filled Clinton County night. Anticipation hangs. Like frozen exhalations in winter. Impatient for growth; hungry for the spring. Sounds carry strange, caught in the grip of a Capitol City December. Voices echo harder; vibrations, they linger. The songs of nature rhyme–strange words for a city boy caught out of his elements …

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Truck Wash Blues

November 11, 2021 - by Typewriter Fox

I accidentally stumbled into a bit of money. It wasn’t a lot– a fraction of what I actually need. And it came to me not for the quality of work performed, but more from a place of pity. Not that the origin mattered. Bruised pride did not keep me from cashing the check. It was enough to stock the pantry of poverty- cheap, processed, convenient portions of sadness to later be microwaved in solitude. But even that was a stretch, given the skyrocketing costs of living. So I cancelled future meals for the sake of more immediate beers. Because it was just that kind of day. It was inevitable that I would find myself drawn to that familiar little hill. The odometer of existence was on …

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