Above Lyman’s Riffle–by James Ross Kelly published at Fiction Attic

vaux swiftsMemoir by James Ross Kelly

The old man’s house was falling down ten years after his death; twenty-years after, the whole south face of Lyman Mountain and Ernie’s place by the Rogue River, was divided up and there were expensive homes built at various river viewpoints and no notion of Ernest Lyman, who had lived there for almost a century—was in anyone’s  mind.  However, one year after he’d passed, on a hot August, dusk evening that was beginning to cool, I waited for the red glow down river and Vaux’s  swifts darted through warm air and willows along the river. Swifts in the red day glow off in the west and evening light.

 

Go to Fiction Attic for the entire story:

http://fictionattic.com/above-lymans-riffle/

“My Car” published at Silver Birch Press

My Car

by James Ross Kelly

At seventeen I was driving my

Newly restored & shiny red 1951 Henry J

I’d worked on for 3 years,

With its rebuilt, “Kaiser Supersonic 6”

Down Highway 62, it is 1967 &…

Go to Silver Birch Press:

https://silverbirchpress.wordpress.com/2017/01/22/my-car-poem-by-james-ross-kelly-me-at-17-poetry-and-prose-series/

A Memory of a Memory, story by James Ross Kelly (WHEN I MOVED Poetry and Prose Series)

Silver Birch Press

momndadA Memory of a Memory
by James Ross Kelly

At four, my parents’ divorce had moved my father and me from Rock Island, Illinois, south to the small Kansas town where I was born. My father had gained my custody in an era when men were generally not given custody of children. He accomplished this by getting my mother drunk just before court. His justification was that, in his absence, my mother had gone on a binge and left me alone in our apartment for almost two days. I have no memory of this. He had no apologies. My father was taking me to my grandmother’s house with my grandmother in his ’48 Ford. I had been excited about the house, and had a memory of it as glistening white.

Before all this, I had moved from Kansas and my grandmother’s house at two years old with my mother. We…

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