Category Archives: Artwork

Void and Nil

Evie laughed to herself. It was just acting. Then again, she often did have trouble determining where she ended and someone else began. She wasn’t sure if this was a side-effect to acting, or to existing. Or if there was … Continue reading

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In Dreams Begin First Person

I am running.It feels like I’ve been running for a long time.I want to turn around and look behind me but my neck is locked into place.So I can’t see who or what is chasing me, but I know it’s … Continue reading

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Sea Change

Excerpt from my novel, No One Dreams in Color. 1.    I was nineteen and lost when I first saw Wendigo. That was the year everything broke apart. In the center, and in other places too.    My mother died, … Continue reading

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Cinema Scope

A catalog of my film scripts, and accompanying loglines, listed on Stage 32.

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Nipples don’t Kill

In the feral country of nipples,where she-wolves raisetheir pups to howl unashamedlyat the moon,many many men,unconsciously ensnaredin puritanical roots,fear, scorn and revilethe mystery of the female nipple,its organic promise of milk and eternitytoo vagrantly radiantfor many many men’s eyes to … Continue reading

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The Source

For mothers everywhere: Their hearts, registeredas infinite beacons,have gone gentlyand luminously into nightsnot so good and pitch-black, bravingflytrap folds and god-awful rowsto soothe, mend andrestore the bruised vitalsof daughters and sons;they go, infused with bright rage,green force driving homenocturnes and … Continue reading

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Broken Land at Ten

This month marks the ten-year anniversary of my novel: Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale. I am feeling a bit sentimental about this ghostly noir tale, not only because it was the first time I experienced having a novel published (I … Continue reading

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In Praise of Honey

Spoken word track w/ Ben Wright on bass and Nirmalan Mayura on flute. Image by James McNeill Whistler.

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God’s Word Against Mine

And on the eighth day she was diagnosed an Artist, and saw that it was good and fierce and necessary, and went forth creating like a madwoman, rattling gravity shackles to the din of furor and crumbling towers within. (Poem … Continue reading

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Immigration Laws

We areimmigrants in our own skin,flash-fire refugeeswho get by with falsified papers,fake IDs, and forged signatures.If caught and found guiltyof a trespassor transgression,we pardon ourselvesin our native tongues,language a placeholderfor the nameswe were forcedto annul. (Poem from the collection, Arclight.)

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