Author: John P. O'Grady

Sleep by the Sea

Sleep by the sea. Dream a time of Little Bighorn. Historical signage. Untended grass land. Burial ground. Further the fence. Hills roll. Memory of you. Sleep by the sea. Grassy corridors. Inactive shooters. Historic...

On Labels

Today at a supermarket in the Catskill Mountains I saw a bottle of vegetable juice adorned with remarkable labeling: “100% Juice with Added Ingredients.” What manner of adjective is this percent? I wasn’t totally...

Beauty Bare

This blazed path. Lovely winter light, clotting shade. Rusted border, collapsing fence. Gap in the grammar of the woods. Fallen limbs beyond memory. Forgiving duff and stone. Spare fading lines. Both ends tangled not....

House Hunting

On a lark ventured into the exclusive listing of self—many rooms, musty cellar, dusty attic, cobwebs everywhere, sheets thrown over ugly furniture, sullen portraits beyond living memory and dour landscapes crooked with time on...

For the Record

“Each one,” they told us, and there were too many to count, “stands for something in the real world.” Meanwhile our milk was spoiling in cartons kept in stale cloakrooms. That was a long...

Commonweal

One time in college I drove my 1973 VW Beetle home from Maine to New Jersey on the day before Thanksgiving and got stuck in evening traffic along the Mass Pike between Auburn and...