These are the things I didn’t tell you. Read the rest of this entry »
Short Writing
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A/W
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These are the things I didn’t tell you. Read the rest of this entry »
These were rough, rivetless, piecework men. I stood there in my pajama pants, the night’s breeze licking at the flap, shrivelling my already insubstantial poke of manhood. Read the rest of this entry »
One fear of mine: My children resenting these days in the future. Read the rest of this entry »
We arrive at the sentencing early, even before the news trucks, to a team of policemen that directs us away from the courthouse and into the Municipal Building parking lot across the street. Read the rest of this entry »
It is 00.51 and I have kept the light on. It is 00.51 and I have kept the light on and I feel sick because I have eaten too much.
It is 00.52 and I feel sick and the light is on and I have eaten too much and I think I still love you. Read the rest of this entry »
I want nothing more than to smell these roses. I want nothing more.
My family, I will never see. Again. My crew. Rescue, is improbable. If they find me, at all, it will be frozen, my visor furred … with frost. Turning and turning. Read the rest of this entry »
You look down from the top-floor room of your hotel onto the beach below. It is 7am, and the man you know as Renato carries deckchairs from a small square shed and places them in lines on the stone, ten metres from the shoreline. Read the rest of this entry »
I imagined him striding into Sloane Square station, coffee in hand, handsome, hyena-hung, swinging his black leather attaché case. To be injected, hypodermic-like into the blood stream of London. Read the rest of this entry »
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