The Los Angeles apartment was tropical, with grapefruits hanging heavy off the trees that lined our street and fat lemons that spilled into the gutter, sometimes hitting car hoods in the night on their way…
Browsing Category Nonfiction
Brushstrokes
We don’t know where it goes. We don’t really care. When painting alla prima, you work back towards yourself. Oil based, wet-on-wet. Translated Italian: first attempt. Coat the canvas with magic white or phthalo blue….
Waiting for Friends
1 A kettle of turkey vultures is doing that thing. They soar in one place, black wings widespread, catching the updraft to nowhere, stuck in the blue expanse like freckles on a face. They form…
Nothing Gold Can Stay
Our sixth-grade classroom smelled of stale peanut butter and scrapped fruit wafting from the lunch pails inside our desks—those we’d crouched under in drills during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Word problems and diagrammed sentences sprawled…