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I lost a baby two years ago. At 8.5 weeks after seeing her heart beat. I haven't been able to talk about it, but I can write about it. My throat cracks and splinters when I begin to form a thought or word or phrase. I took such great care when…
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Alcohol and American writers have always had a connection–about 70 percent of American winners of the Nobel Prize for Literature could be considered heavy drinkers if not more.
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In the darkness, as I awaken, an orange glowing 3:45 greets me . . .
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Detective-Sergeant Claude Mulvihill was seasick. He was in a New York City Harbor Police boat in the East River headed towards the George Washington Bridge. There was a good chop in the harbor, which became worse when the Police Boat reached the Battery.
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And right there beside me
That single wobbling
Snail-like trail of my heavy
French Horn case
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The baby will not stop crying.
He’s been crying for three hours straight.
I’m the worst mother ever.
What kind of mother can’t soothe her own baby?
The bad kind.
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The first time I ever held a gun, I was three years old...
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“Has a letter arrived for me?” Billy sat on the third stair from the bottom, drumming his little hands on his Spider-Man pyjama bottoms. “Dad!”
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1583 4 1
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This artist has a wonderful sense of line and color. Abstract is not my métier, but I appreciate the art behind this painting. It helps to copy it. You sleep with it for a time and, like a woman, you learn her passions and taboos.
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A small poem about incipient insanity
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I feel so glamorous when I talk to Andy on the phone
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He is an exercise in humility:What I cannot have or be. The chances of our meetingand his perfection are darkly astronomical. There are plenty of otherswhose riches I cannot have,why envy him?We are similar in spritbut have different fortunes.It is unfair and…
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The steady sound of shoveling for the past three hours would have woken her, should have made her come to the window...
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“Is truth real?”—what a time for such a question to emerge! Such an elementary question, too, a pity no one was asking it two days ago.
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years later, she won’t go near the trees
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our eyes misted white as goatskin
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The day Eugene told me his secret he gave me a bouquet of lilies. Ice clung to the petals like fuzz. Sorry about the frost, he said. That was an accident.
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He boasts of administering regular beatings to his wife and claims that she enjoyed it.
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Your Uncle Howard and I listened to Dutch Reagan re broadcast big league baseball on WHO Radio when we were little. He'd call the play action off the wire complete with sound effects. The son of a bitch turned out to be a Republican...
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At first we thought we could get by using honey so we all stormed the SuperMart and cleaned the shelves out of Suzie Bee Honey. First the jars and then the squeeze bottles, but it wasn't the same. Then Mary Sue yelled out “How about brown sugar?”…
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Look around you, see what you have built.
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theme songs for concentration camps!?
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She has dwindled for the better part of a year, staved off her period, breasts and hips like a warrior. Chestnut strands that danced along candy apple cheeks now surrender to metal pins, her bun severe as an old maid's. Her prominent ears…
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I'm a madman. People call me other stuff, but I'm a madman. My name is Roberto Nolasco Bahag-hari. Yeah, I know. It's kinda funny for a name. Friends sometimes call me RNB though I hate that freakin' music. Sometimes people…
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When He had built the Universe, there was no greater joy in putting it together. The angels themselves were perfect constructs of concept and design, embodiment of breathing principle over particle waves. They each had their purpose; each mortar or a supp
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