— 1 I clicked keys. What are you working on, he said. I drew sentences he dimly heard, nodding slow rhythm, reaching at dresser, culling contact from lid. I stopped typing, changed chair from screen…
Browsing Category Art and Photography
True Story, 3rd Person by Scott Starbuck
— One day far offshore I asked the best deckhand I had how he got to be so good. He said, many years ago his father left two boys in the Alaskan wilderness with…
Of Aquanauts
— Submersibles tethered: strangers to see into the silence the hidden coelacanth suspended in the womb. They sing in high-pitched Doppler to glint its scales; when nothing sings back, Calypso’s monitors are black (black…
Questions and Answers
— Yesterday my five-year old daughter chased her brother with a spatula. I’ll kill you! she screamed. Where does she get that? From the perverts on television. We don’t have a television. Then from…
White Heat
— My mother stands before the white heat, but for her it is more Cagney than Dickinson, sweat pants and a tray of pills, cable, that good son on a tower of fuel calling…