Tag Archives: Every Man Jack

god fantasy (a prose poem) by Jack A. Urquhart

Posted on April 22, 2016 by jaurquhart

                  ©2016 by Jack A. Urquhart  (500 words) Call me crazy, but I like to fantasize about meeting god, about hooking up with the über one for a face-to-face encounter. Nowadays, that … Continue reading →

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Say ‘Cheese’! A Birthday Letter to my Son

Posted on March 5, 2016 by jaurquhart

©2016 by Jack A. Urquhart (Dillon Tyler Urquhart 03.08.1979—08.02.2013) Dear Dillon, Today, with your birthday coming on, I tried from old photographs to summon some smile-making memories, a few happy commemoratives from all those “say ‘cheese’!” moments. But it seems … Continue reading →

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Afterwords: Reflections on losing a child to mental illness and drugs

Posted on February 11, 2016 by jaurquhart

©2016 by Jack A. Urquhart   1600 words I do not know if I should be attempting this again—don’t know if it’s wise or useful to attempt honesty, especially in prose, on a matter so profoundly life-altering as the death of … Continue reading →

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Hindsight, a prose poem

Posted on January 17, 2016 by jaurquhart

©2016 by Jack A. Urquhart “I can see you,” she says sweeping airily by, flash of Sunday-school dotted swiss, patent leather rat-a-tat heels, whiff of Skin So Soft. “Time to rise and shine!” Her voice is soprano sharp and bellwether clear, the vibrato … Continue reading →

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Not on Your Life: a prose poem

Posted on January 11, 2016 by jaurquhart

©2016 by Jack A. Urquhart               We said our farewells in Seattle; You, heading off to the library in a misting rain, I, preoccupied with transit arrangements, flight delays. But I remember the smoky … Continue reading →

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Sunday Morning Run (prose poem)

Posted on November 29, 2015 by jaurquhart

              ©2015 by Jack A. Urquhart Come Sunday morning, he runs the streets, pants and puffs past houses familiar since kindergarten, the former homes of former friends. Instead of Sunday School, he attends the … Continue reading →

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Shelter

Posted on November 20, 2015 by jaurquhart

                ©2015 by Jack A. Urquhart (for Raymond) Purple thunder heralds the storm. At dusk, the rains begin. Outside my window a necklace of liquid pearls— strung from telephone line— captures the last iridescence … Continue reading →

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Recollections

Posted on October 23, 2015 by jaurquhart

©2015 by Jack A. Urquhart (for Mom) Big blue Buick lies wrecked by the road—plate glass, framed steel fragile as October leaves— as fleeting as flesh and bone; Still a blue leather purse left behind at the scene calls back its … Continue reading →

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Space (a prose poem)

Posted on October 3, 2015 by jaurquhart

©2015 by Jack A. Urquhart (for Dillon from Dad) I dreamt of us again last night: You, sullen and scowling, opting for deep space; Me, drawn to your furtive luster, wondering how, from where we began, we’d opened this gravity-bound … Continue reading →

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Book Review: Kate Atkinson’s “Life After Life” and “A God in Ruins”

Posted on June 10, 2015 by jaurquhart

©2015 by Jack A. Urquhart   (Twitter @EvryManJac)         1580 words “When we read a story, we inhabit it. The covers of the book are like a roof and four walls. What is to happen next will … Continue reading →

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