Category: Writings

  • The Butterfly’s Wings


    She dances through life, moving from partner to partner with such even-handed grace that no one takes affront. The lovers, men and women, cling to her, lose themselves happily in her world. The frankness of her gift is such that they all understand.

  • A woman on the riverbank in repose


    As the afternoon sun drops lower, the timbre of the light deepens, throwing a soft golden blanket over the two of us. All I want now is for her to sleep while I stay with her under a summer sun that settles on the horizon without ever dissolving into the ocean.

  • Like swimming through night and day


    But probably he admired her more for letting that surly old husband of hers back for the last years of his life, swiping away with that slender, braceleted hand whatever had come between them once.

  • Cleansing Waters


    As an adolescent, I prayed to be made wise, but now, knowing the price one will pay for such insolence, I regret my words. I could have asked for riches or a long life or many children – but no, I had to ask for wisdom.

  • The Culture Wars


    “The first sign that something was up was the arrival of a flotilla of pianos on the eastern shore of the city. Each was manned by a tuxedoed pianist who stood with his baton at the ready…”

  • Of Warriors and Lovers

    “…it would be music and poetry and love-making every day. We would not go hungry because our souls would be so full that every life-giving chore would be imbued with the glee of being alive. And when the day came for us to surrender our lives, we would go full and sated and grateful into…

  • The Dancer and the Falling Down


    The Dancer is a beautiful woman. So many blood lines are in her that she is the amalgam of us all. Spanish. Azorean. Arab. English. Gypsy. In her high cheekbones is her Indian blood. Her great-grandmother was Coeur D’Alene and sang the Blues in San Francisco. There are bootleggers and brothel-owners in her as well.…

  • The Many-Chambered Thing


    [box type=”shadow”] Listen to the Podcast: [audio: https://www.kevincarrelfooter.com/podcasts/podcast-3OCT2010.mp3][/box] I went to see my dead father’s lover, to see what she could tell me about the missing man. She was not surprised to see me, though we had only met obliquely in stories. Like most lovers, she held tightly to the idea that what she had…

  • I want to be a far off train whistle

    “I know you go through life lightly.” Her words were pleasing, but all I could think of was how absolutely heavy I still am, how very much lighter I could be. Her words also put me on guard because I know that the moment you become complacent, you expand and fill the free space around…