Tag Archives: Poetry

Godot in Vegas

This just in: No one is waiting for Godot anymore. No one has the time or interest. Plus, no one knows who he, or Samuel Beckett is. The wastelands are even dryer, tubercular in their plot and scrape, and presently … Continue reading

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Less Said

I have no desire to sing tonight. This is the only line Samuel Beckett managed to write for a libretto which he abandoned. The smallest hours hold staggering volumes of silence.

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Memory Piece

A young woman came to see me yesterday. I know it’s my daughter, yet something stops the word daughter from coming out of my mouth, any of my mouths. There is word-daughter and there is daughter-daughter and word-daughter is the … Continue reading

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Remains of the Day

The first spots were discovered, and contrary to my sense of fiction, they had nothing to do with extraterrestrials or loneliness. Nor poverty. Soon, no exact timetable, but soon my memories would no longer be mine. I would no longer … Continue reading

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Plot

Yesterday I buried my mother. Two mothers. Maybe three, or four. I have had many mothers in the small hours of this modest and shrinking life. All of my mothers are tassels of foam threading mighty surf. All of my … Continue reading

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Portrait

When I watched my mother brush her hair, it made a scraping electric sound: vibrating plastic teeth sinking repeatedly into a fuzzy animal. I loved watching my mother brush her hair. I’d make sure to always stand behind her, so … Continue reading

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Miasma

I have mimicked many voices to track and capture my mother’s theriomorphic grief, therefore my own: history pared and blood-let outside of time. Inside time, once upon a time, my mother was, as she tells it, a terrified-out-of-her-mind seventeen-year-old, not … Continue reading

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Last Furies: Audio Book

Early release of the audio book version of The Last Furies, available through Lost Telegram Press (or Rakuten Kobo: http://kobo.com/) Print and digital editions coming in mid-September.

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In the Dark

I was vacant when he entered me, a ghost in a long corridor. In the distance, I heard low hissing. As if the world were losing air through a slow leak. I silently sang myself a lullaby from my childhood, … Continue reading

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Reviewers Wanted

My new novel, The Last Furies, is slated for mid-September release (in print, digital and audio-book editions), and e-book ARCs (advance review copies) are available upon request to anyone interested in reviewing the book. SYNOPSISIn this lyrical and speculative mosaic … Continue reading

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