I’m out there all day, all hours waitin’ to go back in the women's shelters anyway. Street... that's where we do do the talkin' and the rantin' and the pantin'.

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“We created a board game called Jr. Writers Fun Land!” says his mother. “It’s a good indoor activity for rainy days when real writers write depressing poetry.”

...

The doctor sucks the fetus out of her with an Electrolux vacuum cleaner, and it’s the same one my ma uses to hoover the floors.

Twenty-six years after leaving, I wanted to forget.

Sometimes the scenes were benign: a chair draped with a blanket, the smell of black tea. The other ones infected her late into the day: one from a girl with henna hair who wordlessly handed in a form. Patrice saw a noose dangling over a wooden chair and f

Lindsey and I are both talking loudly about things we would never talk about in real life, under the impression that this is all somehow instructional for Di. But I think it's really more about us. Di gives us an excuse to talk like two people unjustifiab

I can never tell if he’s drunk or using some sort of substance or if perhaps his brain just doesn’t fire at the pace that we have come to accept as normal.

We had sex, but hadn’t established a strong relationship. We liked each other as more than friends, but I was worried that Claudia was acting as a honey trap and spying on me for Dan Arris.

I walked along the beach today, and there I saw them all; including the latest lost: little Tiven, Tommy, Michaela & my Paul. Grandma painted at her easel, set upon the dune. Uncle Eddie bent in half, laughing like a loon, Oliver growled…

Once upon a time I sat in summer chairs beside cool vine walls. This was in a borough east of the major city, where families gathered in seasonal joy, by blooms fragrant, to worship the summer and its might. There is nothing diminutive about the world when one is…

Eva stepped out of the hut she and Javier shared and slogged through the mud toward the coop to fetch fresh eggs for Javier's breakfast. None existed. Javier became angry when he didn't get his eggs. Eva slowed her pace as she neared the door. She knew wh

Just bring me his head, that cerebral kiln of hot, ruddy verbiage and cadence.

T-Rex's arms are very short, so he uses his mouth to catch and throw the frisbee. The disc, an allopleuron shell, comes flying toward him and his powerful jaw muscles tense in anticipation. When he catches the turtle shell he wants to crush it between his teeth and knows…

I write to make visible my small/ assertions against impermanence.

Hey Handsome Rich Kid / Do you want to go boink boink in your Benz?