Tags » The Narrative

The Halfway Mark (in which the daddies feed me very well)

It’s Thanksgiving today. I’m sitting in my mother-in-law’s dining room, listening to my raucous family in the next room, laughing, playing games, and (for the moment) entertaining my children. 1,303 more words

Surrogacy

Its Black Absence

Notice the crow
prominent in
the artist’s calligraphy
(roughly translated
“Crow is flown”)
is not pictured
in his kakejiku

its black absence
from the spray… 19 more words

Poetry

Do Horses Named Satan Go to Heaven?

The hospice nurse, a Carmelite nun, asks me if I am Catholic (she asks if my mother is Catholic, as if that were not a rosary around her neck). 981 more words

Toulouse Street

Fires of the Season

Walking out for a forbidden cigarette I take a turn around the lot and notice the neighbor’s overgrown oleanders are in full fall bloom, while the seed pods of the adjacent Chinese lanterns have withered to a color somewhere between grocery bag and old parchment (and just as fragile could I reach them): the same old story–the one the crow knows–of the turning of the wheel. 768 more words

Toulouse Street

If this is the corner I've painted myself into

…think only this of me

That one more cheap camera
has shattered
against the world’s beauty.

— Everette Maddox

Toulouse Street

Spill That Wine Dig That Girl

Morning will come before you know it pouring through the door like the boiling oil of hash browns on the side. It is not time yet time for breakfast. 58 more words

Cryptic Envelopment

Give me

your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free so that we may burn them.

I have bills to pay and you, Mr. and Mrs. 59 more words

Toulouse Street