“Find a penny, pick it up, all day long you’ll have good luck.”

This is a confession.

I’ve told some people that I made my own luck. It was a kind of private joke, really. Someone would comment on how lucky I’ve been, the breaks I’ve gotten and the innovations I stumbled onto. Usually it was someone who really wanted to know the so-called ‘secret of my success’, how I made Portable Holes, so they could replicate the magic, I guess. So I’d smile and say that I made my own luck, and they would think I was unbearably arrogant and then leave me alone. It’s true, though. I made my own luck. Just not in the way you think.
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The Museum of Moments

Welcome to the Museum of Moments.

Yes, we’re open. Come in, please. No, we’re not new to the neighborhood. The museum has always been here. Yes, it is strange that you’ve never noticed us before. Shall we call it luck? Fate then. Yes, I prefer that, too.

Call me Moira.

We require a donation to browse the collection. We can discuss that on your way out, though. Come, let me show you around. Continue reading The Museum of Moments

In Silence (poetry)

In silence

I have a belly full of stones that are words
heavy down in my gut
two dozen or more “I’m sorry” pebbles
a broken fragment of “that could have been me”
a handful of weighty “yes” and “no” and “I am too”
jostled next to jagged edges of “I wish”
though acid and time inside
have removed the rest
(but I remember that falling star).

Continue reading In Silence (poetry)