Fiction
Ca’Venezia: Your Voice
Your voice alights on my armhair, a whiff of cigar smoke— caramel, and ghostly— “Cities die; let them.” Black thing to say. I patter
Dreamless Nightmare
I have not always had my medication to protect me from epilepsy, to keep my hand steady while I handled boiling grease and kitchen
The Sacrifice
Hauling my suitcase up the unevenly-paved alley, I glance at the second-storey room I share with Komal. Against twilight’s midnight blue, our window glows white.
Lascaux is Burning
The first art Was not art, Rather, a color line shot through the dark, No more expression Than a plea for explanation. The grandest monuments
Fall Cranes
Back home, my sister’s bedroom overlooked our back deck. She could climb out her windowsill and drop down a few feet onto the wooden planks
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