A short story by Frank Diamond published in his short story collection “Damage Control.” My daughter wants a hamster. We’ve already got a dog, Spike, and he’s a handful. I’m not dead-set against a hamster, and neither is my wife. But we’re not jumping in, either. My daughter’s the nicest little 12-year-old you’d ever want … Continue reading Hemingway the Second
Author: phillyfrankdiamond
Featured
Progress (a poem)
a poem by Frank Diamond http://www.thecharlescarter.com/writing/2017/02/22/progress/ published in The Charles Carter Literary Magazine in February 2017 (in audio format--click on green Progress link above)
Featured
Remember
a short-short story by Frank Diamond (appeared in a little literary magazine called 50 Give or Take https://us5.campaign-archive.com/?u=09e9431de1a89ec0d0e21d16e&id=e3a1175fa2&fbclid=IwAR1ZEZUX7DlQEL2EmzcqabNkEqz9ThfaapeWVf28mNRQ5C95USBkei2dcew
From Dreamers Literary Magazine: “Scented Beans Destroy Themselves”
a short story by Frank Diamond https://www.dreamerswriting.com/frank-diamond/
Featured
The Abbey
by Frank Diamond Authors Note: A short story of mine called, "The Abbey," was published today (July 3, 2022) in a little literary magazine called Superpresent. Here's the link to the pdf of the issue. https://indd.adobe.com/view/b37aa0fb-8193-4b12-b99e-6f5b5d3649bf "The Abbey" starts on page 43. And down below is the story here on WordPress. Me: “Why, you’re cruisin’ … Continue reading The Abbey
Featured
Raise Your Glasses
written and performed by Frank Diamond https://soundcloud.com/user-132915329/raise-your-glasses-2
Featured
Wavelength
Dad and big brother, Jason, got along well — great, in fact — except for those stupid occasional arguments that any two family members can have; the kind often forgotten before they’re forgiven.
So Very Much To Be Thankful For
By Frank Diamond [ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN NOVEMBER, 2005 IN THE PHILADELPHIA EVENING BULLETIN.] As apropos for the night before Thanksgiving, something not too filling: A tale related third-hand. I don’t often pay full attention to the homilies on Sunday — a reflection more on my poor concentration than on the quality of the speeches. However, … Continue reading So Very Much To Be Thankful For
Ave Maria on the Moon
a short story by Frank Diamond appearing in The Fictional Cafe. https://www.fictionalcafe.com/ave-maria-on-the-moon-by-frank-diamond/ and here it is pasted in below. Desperation birthed the plan, if you want to call it a birth, and if you want to call it a plan. NASA threw us at the Moon; a Hail Mary pass for world peace, of all clichés. … Continue reading Ave Maria on the Moon
Pennypack Park
https://soundcloud.com/user-132915329/pennypack-park
Lyrics by Frank Diamond
Music by Camille Peruto
Performed by Camille Peruto
Featured
Therapy Dog
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This short story, “Therapy Dog,” was published July 11, 2021, in a little literary magazine called Sincerely Magazine. The magazine can be purchased here https://www.sincerelymagazine.com/volumenineserendipity. Below is the story in WordPress. About 10 years ago, when my daughter Allison attended the University of Pittsburgh, she’d periodically call home with updates. Her college experience—you’d … Continue reading Therapy Dog
Assurance
“You stay your age forever.”
Sign now, sit back, watch
These premiums will not change
As indemnification unfolds
October leaves drift like embers
Each snapshot freezes, then evolves
Moral hazard roils and regals
As outliers in mid-orbit pause
Dodging regression to the mean
“Love stays its age forever?”
No, it’s different looking back
That’s no stranger in the corner
Slowly waking from her nap
To Live Again/The Place Where the Chiefs Meet
https://soundcloud.com/user-132915329/toliveagaintheplacewherethechiefsmeet
This is an audio experience on the Soundcloud platform. It contains the song “To Live Again” written and performed by Camille Peruto to accompany the short story, “The Place Where the Chiefs Meet,” written by Frank Diamond (me) and narrated by Maggie Peruto.
Beggar
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This short story was published in the summer 2019 issue of the little literary magazine Pattern Recognition No. 4. “Some old bag probably just lost her old bag,” Mike Feller decides with a shrug. He had just turned onto Godfrey Avenue when his beams swiped an object. At first Mike thinks it’s a … Continue reading Beggar
Surprise!
It was quiet when I got in. There’s something almost cathedral-like about McStew’s in the slow hours. The light filters in through the stained glass, and every echo sounds like a kneeler being slammed down. How many windbaggy dreams were offered up? How many resolutions? How many times had someone come in full of new … Continue reading Surprise!
The Winnings
I dream that my late wife, Megan, and my very-much-alive girlfriend, Sophia, sit in a café downtown, sharing wine and some delicate finger thingys — rare cheeses, quiche, caviar. They are working class girls who climbed up and out, and neither would munch like this in real life. Give ’em Buffalo wings! The spicier the … Continue reading The Winnings
The Chase
I reach into my back pocket, unfold both copies of the formula and hand them to him. “Here’s the Fountain of Youth,” I say. “Golden,” Jake says, squinting at the figures. “Cheryl, you’re amazing.” “Careful,” I say. “Looks like rain.” He leans against his car, gives me a look. He places his hands on my … Continue reading The Chase
The Checklist
I could either lie awake afraid, or angry. I choose anger. But I didn’t become angry at Marty for not giving me a raise this year, or the soccer coach who benched Debbie because of her attitude. I got mad at me, Cheryl DeMarco. At my younger self. I got mad that I am a … Continue reading The Checklist
Insomniac
Outerbridge voices
Reach from rest
Nothing lays still
In nether fog
Spread blankets
Over graves
Burgundy sipped
As midnight rises
Bloated at world’s end
Fold newspaper
Horoscope out
Dead swamp, dark layers
Save for future
Space in the attic
Like one more box
Where dust descends
Wait for deliverance
As purgatorial voices
Gather in layers
Outside rotted doors
1968
A friend’s dad is a ward leader and we get to be on the advance team for Robert F. Kennedy and that means Secret Service clearance and other privileges. When RFK arrives in Philadelphia in late March, we ride in the motorcade out to Our Lady of Czethochowa in Doylestown. Because we have college kid … Continue reading 1968
Camille Peruto in Concert!
Welcome to the Neighborhood
I decided to explore, find a hoagie shop somewhere. Hunger and the need to get my bearings allowed me to set aside the unpacking for a while. I had moved away from this neighborhood 30 years earlier. The places I knew then had either closed or changed ownership long ago. The residents were now predominately … Continue reading Welcome to the Neighborhood
The Reader
Mr. Landrew read like crazy. When I was a kid, about twice a month he’d saunter down Albanus Street in the Olney section of Philadelphia carrying the latest pile of books he’d gotten out of the library. He’d use one of his old belts to tie them into a bundle. It was a big bundle, … Continue reading The Reader
It’s Not Fair
That I should awake each day
Dream-sliding on a bed of my own
And know three meals will be consumed
Washed down with water running through
Drive to my job. Get lost in my work.
Light a votive for my sleeping wife
Praise how she graces my existence
That I can walk in October woods
While leaves descend in tongues of fire
Or by the Atlantic on a summer’s eve
Feel eternity in the soles of my feet
I can laugh (what power!); sing in the shower
And down ice-dazzled beer on Friday nights
That my health so far, so good (knock wood)
Watch my daughter grow proud and strong
Savoring experiences that her path offers
I can read great books or gossip columns
Watch TV by the light of the fireplace
Cherish the beauty of women with proper respect
Find youth-light in the withered faces of the old
And wisdom in a toddler’s pronouncement
That I can stand awestruck in kiss-ling snow
Or listen to rain romancing the streets
Look up at the star-quilt from a country road
And praise all who have hallowed my journey
For vast legions of humanity dead and alive
Aren’t so blest. And it’s not fair! It’s not fair!
Dizzy Returns
I’m a light sleeper anyway. I miss nothing: the creak of a door, the settling of a load-bearing wall, the slightest rustle of the living room curtains. It was a little after 5 a.m. when I awoke. There was noise at my door. Someone knocked about trying to get the key in the two locks. … Continue reading Dizzy Returns
The Opposite of Social Distancing
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was written for the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin in 2005. Long before COVID-19. A different time. A different world, even. It ran with a different headline. I bumped into Al Durante at about 5:30 one morning at the Dunkin’ Donuts on East Lincoln Highway in Langhorne. I don’t quite remember all the details. … Continue reading The Opposite of Social Distancing
Meet Trouble
“Strawberry daiquiri,” you tell the bartender. He’s not happy. It’s not shot-n-beer. You just tagged yourself “outsider” in this tough Philly neighborhood. Now you’ve broken two “too” rules: ordering a too-fancy drink, and sitting too close to Trouble. You’re trying your best not to let on that you notice, but Trouble’s next to you. Her … Continue reading Meet Trouble
Salt
Oh Modest Goddess
Let’s spill the tea
Kick up them tunes
Dance close to me
Oh Godless Goddess
Don’t make the bed
Our culture’s caving
Our soul’s unfed
Please salt the deal
When you have time
I salt the still
You salt the vine
I salt the well
You salt the line
I salt the how
You salt the why
I salt the scream
You salt the sigh
I salt the scene
You salt the high
Oh Modest Goddess
You make me smile
Come lie with me
For just a while
The Calling
So two guys walk into a crowded bar on a Friday night at the exact moment a couple right near the door stand and—presto—two vacant stools. They belly-up and the bartender’s there. They are regulars, a little older than the crowd that averages late-20s to mid-40s. Two beers. They quaff deeply and put their pints … Continue reading The Calling
Noggin’
Your hair, that hair of yours
No, of course, it doesn’t define you
Curly, bouncing, bold, boyant
Light brown with tints of red
That’s what I said (you set me straight)
People pay to look that way
You didn’t even go to a hairdresser
For ten easy years. Remember?
Perfect prelude to cascading laugh
Sways like a searchlight’s pivot
Lets your eyes shine hope, joy
Toward the children you’ve taught
To old people drawn to warmth
Never like the other girls
Wouldn’t bother carrying a purse
One — that’s right — one pair of shoes
Of the earth, by the sun, to the sea
But what feeds on you eats at me
Right here in Buddy’s Barber Shop
Where photos dim every inch of wall
Tumble down, down like a pyre’s end
“I’m not going to let this beat me. Watch!”
Not if have any say it won’t. (I don’t.)
Love discovers from now back to start
As your beautiful noggin’ steals my heart
All Right, Then, Damn It: A Love Poem
Old man next door
Dying from love
45 years married
Wife gone (what?)
About 45 minutes
We say he lost his love
But he looks for her still
Shakes out the laughs
She’s not there
The sunsets, and rain baths
Not there either
Moments of “glad grace”
Jeez, not a friggin’ trace
He stands by the memory chute
But they’re no substitute
I catch him in his car
Staring beyond the driveway
Ask him, “You OK?”
Tells me it’s day-to-day
I know what he means
Man wants to die
Dark hands his only hope
Of seeing love again
There’s nothing that rhymes
Or explains away the unending,
Sharp-stabbing grief —
Which leads me to us
That’s right, you and me
You’ve never asked
What you mean to me
If you did I’d just point
Across the way
You never asked
But for once I tell
You are air and water
And, yes, “shadows deep”
So, now, can we
Get something to eat?
And then later maybe catch
Some serious Zs by the fire?
And murmur, softly murmur,
Our incommunicable joy
Field of Schemes
“This is the bitterest pain among men, to have much knowledge but no power.” — Herodotus This profound, timeless quote — a touchstone of many experiencing dark nights of the soul — makes me think that Herodotus must have coached softball. Specifically, he must have coached his 11-year-old daughter’s junior varsity softball team and watched, … Continue reading Field of Schemes
Maintenance
On the night of the first and most important PTA meeting of that year, 2005, the sky cracked open — according to Principal Maggie Batten’s watch — at 6:42 p.m. She’d been testing the sound system when, suddenly, there seemed to be a thousand hands slapping the sides of the building. “Mr. Norbeck?” Maggie called. … Continue reading Maintenance
The Place Where the Chiefs Meet
I am 26 and it’s the night my father died. My mother insists that I had nothing to do with it. My siblings don’t play; they curse me over the phone. They’ll be in tomorrow. At one point, I slump at the kitchen table, crying and sick from withdrawal. Crystal tugs my arm: “Mommy! Mommy! … Continue reading The Place Where the Chiefs Meet
Holly Bush
Outside the bay window
This gift to my late wife
Given to her by her sister
Years ago plopped in a hole
No bigger than a shovel scoop
Man, has that thing grown
Cardinals sometimes peck the branches
Pulling berries from icy weaves
And my late wife’s wonderment
Gentles me down corridors of dreams
The Light-Keeper
There was something about the ocean that made 12-year-old Emily Dunn happy and sad at the same time. She couldn’t quite figure out why, but her mother had a theory.
Monkeydemon
Monkeydemon is the reason I stand on this bridge above a man-made lake in the middle of which sits a man-made island. It is 10:30 on New Years Eve. Anticipatory bangs, pops, and shouts stumble in the pitched distance. I parked in a cutoff in fog-laden brush. No cars passed as I carried my package … Continue reading Monkeydemon
Flip
The world has lost its beauty
Once filtered through your eyes.
Sunset, sunrise, falling fall leaves
Shift now into a dimmer space,
But I still seek cohesion
With evidence of things not seen
And the scales that fall will weigh.
Do I really need these videos?
These unnecessary glass totems?
Memories swoon, drift and die
Then rise at the oddest moments.
My tickets on the River Styx,
But everything else needs to go.
How do you weigh stuff against spirit?
We were both such able thrower-outers,
But look here at this refinancing pack,
Long ago digested by other deals.
“I won’t ever let you go!”
I think as I dismantle
Rooms, chimneys and the backyard fence.
“I just … just cannot stand it!”
Echoes against walls that used to be.
The Vault
We meet in the afternoon. Since Amy raises a young child, she’s the first to leave. I linger. Twice I stop at the hotel bar but it smells like formaldehyde, and after that I usually head back to the Vault—to where we began. Inside the Vault, business people unwind and I study the list of … Continue reading The Vault
The Deposition
Sure, I lie. Just to calm her down. I squeeze her shoulders—she on the ground, now—and I don’t even ask “Are you choking?” or “Do you need help?” like they teach in first aid. Because she’s beyond frickin’ choking to the not breathing part and somebody sure as hell better help. I tell her, “I … Continue reading The Deposition
Attention Must Be Paid to a Quiet, Decent Man’s Life
AUTHOR'S NOTE: THIS COLUMN RAN IN THE PHILADELPHIA INQUIRER IN 2003 OR THERE ABOUTS. Chances are you knew the place. Maybe you’d wandered in lost, looking for the way to Route 1 or I-95. Or maybe you were a regular, who buzzed in and out several times a week. Part of the routine. No one … Continue reading Attention Must Be Paid to a Quiet, Decent Man’s Life
Remembering My First Newspaper Boss: Marilyn Schaefer
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Published in the Northeast Times in 2010. I said good-bye to factory work, and being a cook, and delivering snack food, and a lot of other kick-around jobs when I got a part-time position as a reporter with the Northeast Times in 1984. I would stay for a year and now remember, as … Continue reading Remembering My First Newspaper Boss: Marilyn Schaefer
I Want to Live!
Vapor
Finding these drugs is like suddenly coming across flashing detour signs. Everything changes. I am here in this suburban nook of a playground because I’d read in the weekly that cops had busted teens right by the sliding board and swings. The news had been accompanied by an editorial stating that the scourge of addiction … Continue reading Vapor
Gum Factory Memories Offer Some Lessons to Chew On
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Published in the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin in 2005. I worked at Fleer bubble gum factory in the Logan section for three years in the late ’70s and early ’80s. That factory closed about 10 years ago and last week the Mount Laurel based Fleer was sold to its rival, Upper Deck, for $6.1 … Continue reading Gum Factory Memories Offer Some Lessons to Chew On
Hard Lessons of the Deadly Flu Epidemic of 1918
My grandmother died in the mid-1970s at the age of 94. She had lost a son in the Spanish influenza outbreak of 1918. Slumber visits the very old at any time of the day so that dreams and reality begin to merge, like cream and the tea that it’s been poured into. However, some facts … Continue reading Hard Lessons of the Deadly Flu Epidemic of 1918
Featured
Unknown Winter Soldiers Not Forgotten
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN THE PHILADELPHIA EVENING BULLETIN IN DECEMBER 2006. It is about 325 steps, depending upon the length of your stride, from the door of the tavern, to a wedge of hallowed ground at the corner of Flowers and Bellevue avenues. Here, in Langhorne Borough, rests the gravesite of approximately — by the local … Continue reading Unknown Winter Soldiers Not Forgotten
Remembering Herb Denenberg
When Herb Denenberg referred to me as a friend in one of his columns, I felt honored. Herb and I had been email correspondents for about five or six years when we were both columnists at the Philadelphia Bulletin. I moved on when that newspaper transitioned from a five-day-a-weeker to a weekly last summer. Herb … Continue reading Remembering Herb Denenberg
The River of Doubt
Gary Doyle sips his beer. It is a Friday in winter, late afternoon fading like a holiday hangover. Gary peeks at the camera over the bar, imagines the feed speeded up. Silent comings and goings, sniffles and laughter, cute meetings and ugly breakups. Life. A couple about his age enters, looking for seats. “I’ll move … Continue reading The River of Doubt
Confession
“Begin.” “Father, I…” “Look down.” “Father?” “Haven’t been here for a while, right?” “Yeah.” “Well, I’m very happy that you’ve given us another chance. Giving the church another chance. “Father I…” “There’s a plastic card. Right above the hand rest. On the wall. See?” “Yeah.” “That should help.” “Bless me father for I have sinned. … Continue reading Confession
Frank Diamond 