1. Premonition “He had a premonition,” Agnes, the widow, said. “He said he was going to die.” “Ma,” Gregg said, “he always said he was going to die. He was the Fred Sanford of Central Ave.” “But this time it came…

Each brief life is lived in dedication// to the honeyed buzz of the colony,

Talking about the event years later, all of the observers agreed to a surprising extent on God's details. God was not an old man with a beard, nor a halo of light, nor a burning bush. God was an absence, a disruption of vision. When you looked right at Go

Sometimes he made a corny joke and smiled. The gold in his tooth glowed like sunshine. He was the most important man in my life.

The blond hair lifts slightly on the skin of my arms. In my mind I am nodding, listening to you in your bedroom as you read to me from your poems. The veins along my arms standing up interestingly. I probably have small breasts, yes. I look up, searchin

He fingered his remaining chips and the usual nervousness tingled at his spine.

You don’t want to get a reputation for being aloof by not joining in the fun at a Super Bowl party. What you need is verbal “gamesmanship,” a conversational technique that can be used to fend off the bores who make up the majority of communal football-wa

Once we got to my house, Lynda had everything drinkable in the house open and in everybody's hands before I knew it. She tossed down a bottle of my father's beer, then started on a bottle of whiskey that was open. She took a straight mouthful and offe

It was only a dream. No one died, nor were they even harmed. So horrifying!

A man stood on the beach, looking out over the ocean. He watched his son practicing turns in his sailboat, and pushed his feet Under the warm sand. Above him someone flew a silent helicopter. "That's my son," the man was screaming even though there was no…

The diner on the corner is one of those Disneyfied modern cut-outs trying to mimic the actual thing but failing utterly. The street, a vein of hipness running through an Ivy League campus that is still trying to cling to a time when it all meant something

I've always been a sucker for a pretty face. It's unreasonable sometimes. Yesterday, in the middle of nowhere was a house that might have seen better days in the dustbowl of depression era Oklahoma. Two Australian Shepherds launched from the rickety porch. It was clear…

She is an old soul...

This is not her death. This is absent-minded omniscience. This is impossible. And then again, the inside-out, implosion. And the hall was clogged with bodies; none of them hers, but who could be sure?

I know what you were thinking. I know what I was thinking. We both looked in each others’ eyes and thought: “Very fuckable.”