i'm obsessed with shorts. short. stories.
i take a room or it takes me. i bring one suitcase, that is all. i own little. trinkets from the war. these i leave at the bottom of the suitcase, in an old tin box. with mary’s papers. mary’s papers. an old tin box. i am an old tin box. or do i wish i … Read more
jet lagged. in the middle of the night, on Italian TV, a subterranean dream. i click through the channels to find: Whitney Houston music videos. there’s always Whitney Houston videos on Italian TV, i don’t know why; chaste adverts for pleasure devices; a sexy demonstration of a non-stick frying pan; an Italian commentary about a … Read more
not the shy tourist, hopping up the salty steps of Rome. the shy man, sitting on the steps by the Piazza di Spagna, waiting for your Lothario. transparent feelings stream, stream, stream past: curiosity, desire, a wish to know it all. but all of it as it is not. not tall enough, not strong enough, … Read more
it’s time for a writing loop. see you on the other side.
at the pool, there’s a man with a beautiful front crawl; each stroke flows effortlessly into the next and he breathes on the count of four. his turns are perfectly timed. at the end of the open swim, he ducks under the ropes, crossing the lanes until he reaches the ladder. that’s when the lifeguard … Read more
“what you got there, Alan?” Sid says. he’s smiling at me but it’s a mean smile. he’s not nice. my Mom told me, she told me, you stay away, Sid’s not nice, and she’s right. my Mom is always right. “nothing.” i shield my bike basket with my body. i know it’s not a real … Read more
“let’s get a dog.” “we don’t have room in the flat.” “how about a small dog? we could fit it in, couldn’t we?” “but i like big dogs.” “listen. dog’s a dog. faithful. i ever tell you about the first time i saw you? your heels were too high and you were knock-kneed from the … Read more
abandoned left behind discarded in the mud thrown away tipped burned hollowed out creosote slick marked by a knife stained with blood
here are my top reads for 2016. in no particular order, for no particular reason. my reasons for loving a book are divergent. sometimes it’s a premise, a tone, a setting. sometimes it’s where i read the story that means so much. i don’t know. i try not to think about it too much. because. … Read more
i see them standing in the backyards of their shared driveway i see Ivan shuffling out from under the half-open garage door, the snowblower shrouded with orange tarp, piles of bird feed scattered at its clawed feet like black rice at a wedding. he’s carrying a plain, metal scoop shovel. i see Jane with a … Read more