Nonfiction
On Beauty
X-R-A-Y
I don’t mind when men talk and talk; then I don’t have to do anything. They fall in love all by themselves.
Names for Things
High Horse
T. Paulo Urcanse Prize for Literary Excellence (4th place)
Isn’t that at least half of why anyone marries? Love me, be my memory, remember for me, remember me.
My Life in Terms of Bugs
Pithead Chapel
The mosquito zapper in the front yard: the most comforting jolts in the world: someone is in charge; something is protecting us all.
A Good Daughter
The Sun
You want what all daughters want: for your mother to live forever. And yet...
The Art of Junk
Barren Magazine
Why not... admire how the snow balances in ridges on the precipitous metal diagonals of a felled antenna, or the sharp dark triangle cut in the lid of a doomed tin can that rust is turning the exact same shade of red as the land?
The Parable of the Son
Who Never Left
Terrain.org
What prompted the son who left to demand, on that particular day, his share of the estate? To leave everyone he knew? One wonders if there was a woman involved.
Radishes
One winter in my early twenties, I coat checked at a French bistro in Chelsea where there were radishes in bowls on the zinc bartop. They were regular radishes, though very big and clean, tops cut off neatly.
Why I Should Not Drive
apt
During the late morning and early afternoon, the light angles in through the side windows, interrupted by trees. Slats of light come through the branches and trunks and hit the side of my face like a strobe—dark, light, dark, light, dark, light. I feel myself getting warmer. I want to close my eyes.
