blue alert

rewriting

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dear imaginary readers of this blog, currently, i’m handwriting a second draft of a novel and it’s slow, but it’s moving along in a forward motion. i’m fleshing out scenes and adding the internal dialogue of the MC, which is fruitful and good work, but it’s slow. sometimes it takes an hour to really nail … Read more

city#1

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shift change lonely nurses squelch through slush outside the Chumir a meth head bums a smoke –this dark city

jeff

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“do it,” said jeff. “i want to know what it feels like.” i’m holding an empty shotgun aimed at his chest. he’s daring me, he’s been daring me for the past half hour. the party is raging. his folks are out of the country at their vacation home in Sayulita. i consider him. a shock … Read more

my father’s work gloves

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my father’s work gloves rest on the handles of the wheel barrel; they hold the shape of my father’s hands, worn from splitting wood and stacking it in the shed, raking and burning leaves. my father’s work gloves are marked with blood, earned when he lost his footing on the wood pile; the chainsaw bucked. my … Read more

those fucking judy’s

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i used to work nights as a charge nurse, 12-hour shifts. night-shift required training: a certain amount of sleep, a careful titration of coffee, and good nutrition. and when the acuity on the unit was high, i could feel it as soon as i entered the back office. inexplicably, it heated up the skin on … Read more

Face Down

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Face Down by Mary Karr   What are you doing on this side of the dark? You chose that side, and those you left feel your image across their sleeping lids as a blinding atomic blast. Last we knew, you were suspended midair like an angel for a pageant off the room where your wife … Read more

to baudelaire

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by Jeet Thayil I am over you at last, in Mexico City, in a white space high above the street, my hands steady, the walls unmoving. It’s warm here, and safe, and even in winter the rain is benign. Some mornings I let the sounds of the plaza – a fruit seller, a boy acrobat, … Read more

a marked grave

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writer Mavis Gallant rests in a marked grave in Montparnasse Cemetery in Paris. in 2015 it was difficult to locate without knowledge that she resides, temporarily, in her friend’s family crypt, because Mavis died almost penniless. when faced with fragile, failing health and dwindling finances, she stated, unequivocally, “i have chosen to be a writer, … Read more