Please join me and other writers on July 10th at The Strand to celebrate the launch of Epiphany Magazine’s Spring/Summer Issue. I will be reading from my story, “Last Minute Travellers” which is featured in the issue. Following the readings, there will be discussion by celebrated literary figures and issue judges Saïd Sayrafiezadeh, Patricia Smith,… Continue reading Epiphany Magazine Spring/Summer Launch
The same Restaurant The same Night hours Apart tell me Why fate Would do Such nonsense To us What kind Of cruel Game is that Bitch playing My god Why why In hell Why did You go My shadow Bent over The table As you — Enjoy your meal.
Your room was square I once noticed from there In your bed, as you slept, And I held my breath Everything had its own place And I wondered what space would I take In the order you kept I tried to eat like your girlfriend Just tea in the night, I’d end up Too hungry… Continue reading “Square” by Mitski
One’s computer should never do this. But if it were to do so, the best place to get it remedied is the Apple shop in Grand Central. Over the din of hysterical, frantic computer users trying to salvage their files, you have the luxury to gaze out over one of the last vestiges of great… Continue reading Broken Books
My latest art acquisition… John C. Kacere (23 June 1920 – 5 August 1999) was an American artist. Originally an abstract expressionist, Kacere adopted a photorealist style in 1963. Nearly all of his photorealist paintings depict the midsection of the female body. He is considered one of the original photorealists, although he rejected the term. Kacere… Continue reading “Loretta” by John C. Kacere
Slow Sundays. Waking with the sun. Grey linen and pink skin. Small apartments, slow journeys home. Hanging on to the thought of two pigeons tied together at the foot, whether they would fight one another for their freedom, or whether it would occur to them that they were bound to one another in the first place.… Continue reading Thoughts On Flight
I want it to get easier. Memory wiped clean like a tabletop. Freed of the need to avoid certain objects, words, and sounds. Hissing, hitting the ceiling when I fail in the endeavor, when an idle glance accidentally brings it all screaming back into razor sharp focus. I no longer wish to have to circumnavigate… Continue reading Memento Mori
Everything becomes a lost place eventually. Welcome to a new lost place.