One way to measure the passage of time is to count the number of days since you last had sex. I’ve lost count. I only know it’s been more than three years for me and my husband—at least with each other. I know this because
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Scratches in the celluloid / show a frame-rate / his mind shown / in the quick tilt of his head / as he observes a painting / the black-and-white print of his
Flow for Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi On learning of your passingI’m shot back in timeto the discovery of your booksand concepts, to teachingmyself how to enter that alteredstate of concentrationwhere creativityspills into spontaneityand
I knew it was time to leave Florida when the sinkhole ate Buddy. I was sitting in a kiddie pool with the hose running, throwing a mangled tennis ball for him to
I know girls sometimes do witchcraft. I’m at a pizza parlor two blocks down from my job. This is where I meet Margaret. I’m on my lunch break from driving warehouse forklifts.
Less the candle-flame and more the light the flame emits across the coffered ceiling. I concede, we may never arrive where we think we are headed. And the storm thrashing, ravaging the
Ode to Ghosts “There’s always someone younger and hungrier coming down the stairs after you.” – Showgirls To the ghost shepherding a motorcycle into the guard rail at night A ghost pulling
Soon the Solstice June 7, 2021 Today the dawn comes furtively. For once, the sun is not a show-off,prancing through the clouds.
I started calling my mother by her first name when I was 14. It was the day after my father deserted us. He left a message under a magnet on the refrigerator
No one bothered telling me that my father was picking me up, so when I saw him outside school, I worried someone was dead. “Why the fuck would anyone be dead?” he
in a world where silkworms turn in the wind, into mothswith prodigious hunger & no mouths, where you are possible even the most