Like Blood

Marc Petersen The real god doesn’t demand belief. He left us on dry land in a garden and asked us how we wanted to live. Once god was like a man. Now god is like an ocean. Calm from the shore– brown pelicans, sailboats large enough for meals at tables, a tanker transporting crude oil… More

What You Remember

Marc Petersen Today, you don’t make it past Livermore. With a hundred miles to go, you pull off the freeway. You park. You get out. You watch traffic pass at eighty, heading northeast. You wanted to see where she’d lived. You imagine roads and barbed wire fences. It was a long walk. This is what… More

Christmas Morning

Marc Petersen I am on my way to extinction, here, today, Christmas morning, my blanket spread out, my wine uncorked, lighting my first cigarette before the stone that says my father, and the tiny angel smiling on the granite roof, and those who have gone past their deaths in rows up along the banks of… More