Look what you have done now.
What were you dreaming about? A boy who collects pictures of fireworks in black and white and stares into their centers asking what colours they were meant to be. He puts them up on his walls and falls asleep to the sound of nothing through the leaves. He wakes slowly in the mornings, his arms raised like pillars over his head and brought back to his sides. He goes up to the hill, all the while...
Today is sunny and beautiful and May. It is the summertime day that singers liken their lovers to in really old pop songs. I spent the morning in the company of schoolchildren and grass and ice cream. Yet today is unremarkable. I am enthused about nothing, and, as always, I have clipped my nails too deep.
Fiction Daily Interview →
I recently had the opportunity to do an interview with Fiction Daily. You can read it by following the above link.
Drain a little blood, lose a little sleep, and all...
It is very peculiar — your face in the sunlight like a mirage. I look at it while you shovel dirt. While you shovel it here in my direction. You’re puzzling over how anyone is supposed to stay clean surrounded by so much filth. I am going under and you would like to keep me there. Under piles of dirt where you would like to keep me. But this is not a burial, you swear, and for a moment...
The Dish Rag & The Towel
The dish rag, having grown grayer and grayer, looks not appealing to the eyes. It sits so flatly on the floor, and is soggy as always. The towel is as bright as ever, and it could be any colour you wanted it to be. It is soft and full, belonging comfortably in someone’s linen closet. Yet the towel follows closely the dish rag’s progression. Why? It is because the towel soaks up the wet...
In Coketown, I would suffocate.
At least there the cause would be the air, and not the people breathing it.
Do not wash the strawberries.
Yesterday, there was a bar where you could order drinks over the counter. I only asked for water. The barkeep poured it from a small showerhead, but that was alright because he put it in a highball glass. I had been thinking about highball glasses all night, so this was fine with me. I wish I had told him something other than, “Thank you”. I doubt he heard me over the music anyway. If...
He dove into me like an oyster harvester and took all of my pearls for himself. He wears them for earrings, walking on the damp wood of docks I will never know. While I sit here staring into the blue mirror with all of my clothes off wondering, “Where is the rest of me, where is the rest of me?”
I flinch and drop the chocolate bar, still wrapped. It clatters next to my keyboard that was clattering similarly, moments ago, when my fingers were on it. Before I can pick it up again he repeats what made me drop the chocolate bar in the first place. He says it more full of air this time, not breathless like before, “My God. Did you even eat dinner? Please, please tell me you had...
I am the tips of your fingers.
Or I would like to be. I would like to be the the curve of swirling lines that leave prints on window glass and notebook paper. I would like to be the new skin under fingernails that clings like early life to a womb. I would like to be the flesh padding your grip that holds a strawberry jam jar at breakfast, a pencil for writing to-do lists later in the day, or a knife at the dinner table. I...
My river dancing partner says he’s met a girl. He says she’s wonderful. And perfect for him because all she’s ever given herself away to is a good trumpet solo and a sense of entitlement. I think next week I am going to switch to dance classes in which you must face your partner.
Emprise Review →
I am in this month’s issue of the Emprise Reivew. Please take a look by following the link.