Tag Archives: story
Heartbreak, she looks down to read what she cannot see– Escape, she breathes out. (Artwork by Edward Hopper) Advertisements
Owl, owl, burning white, your gaze, peerless, and sublime, bearing braised volumes of silence within fathomless archives– Who dares to confront the suddenness of history, all at once, unblinking? Who dares to initiate the sorrow of millennia, in a single … Continue reading
Whether I had been waiting for him, or he for me, I could no longer remember. Or maybe he was a she, and I was a you, gender and pronouns being so malleable and always in flux. Whoever, or whatever … Continue reading
The water listened to the girl disappear and hissed. It was a warning that no one should try and follow her, every last fragment now belonged to incalculable depths. She was safe from trespass and further fracturing. (Photo … Continue reading
Completed draft of my new novel, No Man’s Brooklyn. A return to childhood, to the source of ghosts, to Brooklyn roots.
I tell myself stories in the dark, Anya. Whether or not they help is either of primary consequence or none at all. Sometimes you have to walk through the boneyard in order to reach the garden. This what I tell … Continue reading
(Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn.) I was six when I found out I’d never become a superhero. We were in the kitchen. Me, my mother, and father. My father’s hand was around my mother’s throat. He had a … Continue reading
Henry’s cell, his first ever, gave rise to a new breed of anxiety and impatience. Fretfully awaiting Anais’s text, he stared at the dark electronic device cradled in his palm, and keenly felt pangs of nostalgia. He recalled … Continue reading
(Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn.) I see her rising off the bathroom tiles, toes pointing downward. I know this is a dream but I also know this actually happened, once, a long time ago. Except then Anya … Continue reading
From a distance, within, the story of a writer’s life in the day of fiction’s living wake.