I still remember the night my father died. The years before were a blur of lavish parties with older men shrunken with age and tall bottles of wine and beer. They visited often, these rich men with their families.
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Counterfeit World 3.0
Roscoe has defiled Doyle's living room, again. So, Doyle was siphoning resources—not much, about a tenth of one percent—from RAMPART's projection of a post-Great Lakes Midwest to figure out what to do about the dog. Head down, avoiding the gaze of tenured professors and project managers, he played with parameters: what if I'd had Roscoe since he was a puppy? What if I was his first and only owner? What if I was still with May and wasn't trying to take care of him all alone?
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Ye Olde Plastic Knight
I awoke at the crack of noon. My first order of business was to determine my whereabouts. I appeared to be home, although one can never be certain. I searched for my chalice to soothe my parched throat, but it was empty. I resolutely made the journey from reclining to standing.
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The Lone Walk
The sand beneath my feet whirls away, sweeping me off in a sway. On the floor, I lay, as my grief is in bits, gradually fraying. I stifle a chill as the breezes go hay, the sun grows cold and gray, on a thick cloudy day in May with no hope and no sun rays.
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No Room For Veal
I was only six months in, working as an apprentice chef at Rocco’s, a family-run catering outfit based in the suburbs of Greater London; Esher Common to be exact. The Esher site was a multi-story production and storage outpost and the place where most of the culinary magic happened. Mid-July; daytime. The sun was high, and the winds were still over the stony shoreline of Brighton Beach. I smelled the air and listened to the crashing waves in front of me. Peaceful, I thought, took one last drag, and stubbed out my cigarette in the overflowing ashtray. Our staff had gathered at the client’s site, The Lock, a boxy event…
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Heaven Simple
the wind did not howl but the door frame is loose vibrated and swayed like the unhinged rusting tin roof and her anxious heart
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9 AM Discovery
Open the album to see your roots. Hover your petite fingers across the beige page with the woman’s face you inherited.
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I Like
As I find myself in a very difficult time in Israel, where I live, this is a deliberately slow-paced ode to my journey to Ithaka.
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Phantom Bonfires
Approaching the coast of the North Carolina Outer Banks, Ray slowed the sailboat to a stop, reeled in the sails with the main halyard, and tossed the anchor overboard. The wind rushed around the hull of the Corsair, causing the sails to waver madly. It raced past him as well, picking at his clothes and hair, blowing in his ears, and making goosebumps rise on his skin. His hair was already a windswept nest from the trip over and liable to tempt the coastline birds or evil seagulls.
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Rings of Magic
It was a hot day in the Colorado oil fields. The hottest day of the year. Robert stood on the platform of the new oil drill his company had just finished contracting and removed his construction helmet to wipe the sweat off his brow. He looked over at the young man with sandy blonde hair standing next to a large valve and computer station. “All right Bert. Let her rip.”
