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Songs of Innocence

I could not publish until Anya was gone from fear of upsetting my daughter. We put Anya to sleep Aug. 29, very close to what would hvave been her 19th birthday. 676 more words

Toulouse Street

Ghosts of the Flood

” . . . so many, / I had not thought death had undone so many . . . “
The Wasteland, T.S. Eliot

Sometimes I feel them, my wife told me, their spirits, as I’m driving down the street.

1,439 more words
The Narrative

Nausea. And more nausea.

I am sorry for the radio silence. The truth of it is, I have been consumed by the nausea and I don’t really have much to say besides that. 319 more words


An Imaginary City

I live in an imaginary city. Its borders on one side are indistinct, the gradual erosion from solid land through marsh to water. These boundaries shift daily with the tide, and monthly with the moon, and every day grow a little closer, the city a little smaller. 1,381 more words

Toulouse Street


The first thing to learn, according to my psychological assessments professor, is to neverĀ assume you know it all.

“It’s a myth!” she said emphatically, brandishing her hand toward her PowerPoint slide of a blown-up yellow emoticon with lips turned downwards. 716 more words

The Narrative

All The Things

Radio Free Toulouse Street now ends its broadcast day. ZRFT broadcasts from high atop a pigeon-bespeckled ledge on 1,420 MHz at 1 billion Tezlas iridescence. Mad Toms and Mauds o’ Bedlam, our Notional Anthem.

Toulouse Street

Punta Cana

In the midst of one of my toughest semesters to date, all I wanted was to sit on a beach, get a tan and read a good book. 248 more words

The Narrative