Fiction
Pins
Crying, I recall my father shudders, remembering tall thin men at the foot of the bed apparitions at night, faceless heads like pins, mostly arms,
Black Shrunken Blemish
When Frances had to speak publicly, her legs shook. As a kid, she had grown faster up than she had out and she had felt
A New World
While he sleeps I catalogue his body. When he is awake I keep my distance. While he dreams I touch and map in a
Early Morning Ramblings of a Twenty-Something Girl
A dream of a 1920s quasi-candid shot of Debby Harry, mingling graciously among a grandiose Studio 54 scene. Spray the lens of my life with
No Man’s Land
Bloated clouds float above the prison, obscuring the sun. I linger outside the narrow cell window, which is no more than a barred gap in
Four Brothers
He’s the sweet taste of strawberries on fluffy shortcake, with eyes that reflect an enormous Heart that’s displayed prominently on his sleeve.