Tag Archives: Prose

Starstuff

Mariko was a photographer of stars. It feels funny to put it that way. It sounds as if she photographed celebrities.She only took photos of stars in the night sky.  She said the stars were her real home and that’s … Continue reading

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Mariko

I knew from the beginning that Mariko was haunted, but there was nothing I could do about it. My only choice was to love her, and until the very end. I have five photographs left of Mariko. I burned all … Continue reading

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Frost

There is a specific tenor to dreaming in a silent and snowy land. It’s that place where your voice grows brighter, then brittle and glassy, before shattering into a choir of a thousand birds, and everywhere the echoes attempt to … Continue reading

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What We Talk About When We Talk About Ghosts

It began in a feral and unnamed country, which was the nerve-center of dreaming. Telephones wires hanging down like snipped umbilicals, like severed hyphens that had lost all sense of meaning and purpose. The telephone poles doubled as crucifixes. You … Continue reading

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After Hours

   Lenny Bruce, seated on a chipped wooden stool, cigarette dangling from his lips, slumping forward, shoulders slack. His mouth puckers, the cigarette jumps to attention, he draws in fiercely, then exhales a series of bluish halos that float and … Continue reading

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Raising the Bar

   Dylan Thomas falls off his barstool in Heaven.    Lying on the sawdusty floor, he slurs something about a white horse. And chains, and the sea.    God, who gave Lucifer the night off, is tending bar. He comes … Continue reading

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Surrealism in Paris

Review of Sue Roe’s In Montparnasse: The Emergence of Surrealism in Paris, from Duchamp to Dali A fish rides a bicycle into the Seine. The fish begins to drown and then remembers that it is a fish and starts to … Continue reading

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The Cup Runneth Over

This is a tribute to a coffeeshop, a paean and a love-letter to a place that exists as a staple and sanctuary in the Taos community. By turns, this is also a tribute to the man who owned that coffee … Continue reading

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A Girl Goes Into the Forest

Review of Pel Alford Pursell’s A Girl Goes Into the Forest. In the dream I was sitting with my mother in a restaurant lobby, waiting to be seated for dinner. The hostess came over, asked me my name, which I … Continue reading

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Center of Nowhere

Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn: I come from nowhere Daniel, and nowhere is the exact center of the world. Isn’t that exciting?    I agreed with Anya that it was, even though I wasn’t sure what she meant. And I … Continue reading

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