Every morning, I woke up convinced that the earth was playing tricks on me. Today, I got the newspaper after pulling on old sneakers that I never untied and flipping the switch on the coffee maker. The grumble filled the kitchen and soon, the oaky smell melted into the rest of the house. The grass was sprinkled with dew, small… Read more →
I swallowed a bullet when I was twenty-one, it came in a shot glass and didn’t make a sound, it came in a shot glass and nine years later severed my spine, the numbness took me by surprise, threw me against, a wall, laughed as I slouched down, fetal position, an inviting hand around my throat, singing death song, eyes… Read more →
A box of Little Debbie oatmeal creme pies is arguing over ukuleles; now I need to brush my teeth. I’m only eating potato chips with one earbud in and one ear open— I hope nothing has gone evil. I’ve thought to go to Paris on vacation. I think Americans would eat more eggplant if the wind came up and blew… Read more →
My sister climbed onto my dorm-room ledge, told me to pack up. This was a day after Mother left a note, some cash. Mother was leaving, needed shape in her life. So were we, Nancy said. She didn’t know where we were going. That was the thrill. We stayed in small-town motels, talking about how she’d wanted to become some… Read more →
Even after all these years, Rosemary could still picture her cousin Beth, standing on the church steps, her veil swirling around her, her chin high, laughing. And Jim in white dinner jacket and tuxedo pants, clutching Beth’s arm like he’d never let it go. She’d been there. Fifty years ago. A member of the wedding. And she would go this… Read more →
Needlepoint 9 x 12” linen canvas and cotton thread
“My son, my only child, turned out to be a nobody,” Zina Banks reveals. “He’s out in California, and he’s 33 years old, trying to be a rapper, which I’ve told him ever since he was 15, that ‘you don’t have it!’ Rapping about all these bitches and witches… you know. I said, ‘If you’re going to rap, rap about… Read more →
Let’s never think about or mention my visiting you or moving there again. I’m convinced that’s best for both of us and likely will be more a relief than a regret, I wrote and hit Send. Was I out of my mind? Why had I written that? For one second, yes, I must have thought it best to write and… Read more →
