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Meta
Tag Archives: Prose
Bed
I lie in wait. Hell is supposed to come anytime now. That’s what the others started calling that which was scheduled to come: hell. You would think that humans wouldn’t want to coordinate or administrate hell, but it seems they … Continue reading
Posted in Artwork, photography, Poetry, Prose
Tagged 1950s, atomic bomb, doomtown, fiction, life, mannequins, may 5 1955, nuclear testing, Prose, slice of life, story, viva las vegas, writing
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Knife
My sister says she doesn’t have many memories from childhood. When she looks back, there’s nothing there: a blank screen. I never asked her if she saw black or white in her absence of memories. One of her earliest memories, … Continue reading
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
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
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged birth, birthing blues, connection, grief, hospital, human condition, mother, Poetry, Prose, son, text
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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.
Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized, Video
Tagged american novel, audio book, canadian publisher, Cinema, lost telegram press, novel, Poetry, Prose, rakuten kobo, Surrealism, Theater, vaudeville
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Dinner
I waited. We waited. A storm was coming. It had to be. He had returned from rehab several days earlier, after having been gone for two months. My father had always born pouchy bags under his eyes, but there, … Continue reading
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
Final Cover
Final cover for The Last Furies has been decided (thanks to all who voted), along with updates about the process of the novel and evolving audio-book version.
Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized, Video
Tagged american novel, canadian publishing, experimental, heather ross, hybrid, multi-dimensional, novel, photography, Prose, Publication, Surrealism, The Last Furies, words
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Postcard from the Edge
On a chrome operating table, an umbrella and a sewing machine make love. Are about to make love. Have already made love. One or the other or the other. It is industrial burlesque in a vintage Parisian postcard bearing a … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged love, lust, moon, Poetry, postcard, Prose, romance, secret affair, sewing machine, Surrealism, umbrella
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Ballad of the Cuckoos (publication)
Publication of my screenplay, Ballad of the Cuckoos, in Issue 8 of For Page and Screen magazine, now live.
Posted in Artwork, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater
Tagged ballad of the cuckoos, film, magazine, Poetry, Prose, Publication, screenplay, Surrealism
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