Fiction

Poetry

Empty Lines

[Ring, Ring, Ring] The telephone rings but I don’t want to answer On the other side is someone who I’m running away from [Ring, Ring,

Short Story

Paper Boat

Three walls of the room are made of tin, but on the fourth side a polished floor opens, running like fabric into curtains of lace,

Poetry

The God in the Attic

In our attic, among things, as it seems of past lives, lives a bitter God. When guests come to our house, we don’t mention him.

Short Story

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

Short Story

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