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The Eighth Sea
Posted on November 13, 2014 Leave a Comment
The eighth sea brims with absurdity, while mangled mangroves just ashore absorb it. The farce exudes itself plainly – though not particularly, in that it is not so recognizable at first. It sinks in, over time, and through the twisted roots coils upward. All the while, underneath, as the eye is unmindful, the core soaks […]
Skylab
Posted on October 1, 2014 Leave a Comment
At this, the end of the world, I feel more English than Zadie Smith – not because of white teeth, but because there is no way to write the stories without insult. Surely there is recognition in every word, written unravelling to rest closest to the truth, otherwise clouded with nostalgia, imagined nuance. The price […]
Rio Grande
Posted on September 3, 2014 2 Comments
Irreparably, autumn deposits itself onto the last days of summer, ombre strands still flying stubbornly, unevenly. Inseparably. Tinged with the imminence of next summer, overwashed neon letters peel and hang ungracefully, yet refulgent, from see-through tops. Shorts, tighter now, look seat-worn, even up against the distance of a cloudless, color-blocked blue sky. Two tiny girls […]
Tikkun Olam
Posted on August 15, 2014 Leave a Comment
The world is sad, unjust, tormented, broken – but sunscrubbed hyperbole will never mend it. Isolated, singular refrains of trumpeted exegesis are inadequate, ineffectual in our muted universe, if the purpose is one of repair. We must love the words we speak. The world is joyful, righteous, untroubled, perfect – but vitriol will never break […]
End of Shift
Posted on August 7, 2014 Leave a Comment
Inflated insensitivity clocks out at 7:30, hoisting its Michael Kors bags on twin, still-painless hips, and smoothly bouncing past a faded blonde, head in her hands, crouched on the curb and muttering prayers to her feet, because death – even when anticipated – is vulgar and unexpected, isn’t it? They cross the driveway to the […]
Manhattan Has No Safeways
Posted on June 24, 2014 Leave a Comment
On the cliffs of the Palisades, it is never sure whether what is heard is the sound – or the unsound. Thunder or the blasting of rock. The rumbles are low, and often dimly-sensed in the background of an empty morning’s distance, the growling stomach of a half-starved afternoon, brimming with bare truths. Truths which […]
Thunder is Thunder is Thunder
Posted on June 23, 2014 Leave a Comment
Stealing your thunder – I can do that, you say, while evenly flicking rubbery drips off the side of a bottle. Dark and syrupy drips, sweetly sad with indignant envy, that thunder bounces and beats behind me – and I ignore it as best I can – but, nanosenconds apart, it’s upon me and inescapable. […]
Labor of Unforgiveness
Posted on June 17, 2014 Leave a Comment
Late struggle lumbering – can’t breathe, can’t swallow – shallow skin, shiny and taut with the anticipation of a thought caught in the throat like a knot. Choke on that, won’t you? Smiling, swiftly slit in the back of my mind, is what I would say – and mean it – no, really, MEAN IT […]
Sundown
Posted on June 12, 2014 Leave a Comment
By the time we recognize the aged faces of our oldest friends’ parents in their faces, we are ourselves old. The creases in their foreheads, the ginger steps of their thread-veined legs, the freckled humps of their upper backs, the deep lines down their forearms. These faces were unimagined to ever be our own, but […]
Reason
Posted on June 11, 2014 2 Comments
Persistence wends its way through me, and dogged determination is my downfall – rendering me as emotionally aloof and socially distant as a rosy clan of Irishmen on Christmas Eve, before there’s been anything to drink – born of those same people who show up for a free dinner, but not the funeral of your […]
A Girl by the Bridge 
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