Publications

On the Influence of Mentors

Brevity's Nonfiction Blog + March 11, 2016

I’ve always wanted a mentor, but I’ve never had one, not like Socrates was to Plato or Emerson to Thoreau. This can mean one of two things. Either my work appalls and repels or (because I can’t bear to believe I can’t write) I plain don’t need a mentor. I don’t mean to sound flippant…

The Forest

Red Claw Press + 2012

She is the hag of fairy tales, the woman with the hunched back and the craning neck, and she lives in a flagstone cottage in the forest’s belly. She has wet, black eyes and covers her wrinkles in stitched burlap not quilted, grim rags. And in your dreams you find her as though you are…

Fluorescence

The Carolina Quarterly + Spring 2011

Four days ago a butterfly splattered into the windshield of my not-so-eco-friendly car. No, this happened four years ago. We still lived in Georgia. The war was over but troops kept returning to the zone. Oil needed to be protected. The fat winged body that oozed yellow on my windshield must have counted thrice toward…

Gilded

Fifth Wednesday Journal + Spring 2011

They seem out of character for him now. Those things he’d bought his bride of seven years: the colonial-style house built with luxuries of the day; the two Waterford crystal dishes, once home to tiny pillows of buttermint candies and burning Dunhill cigarettes; a parquet living room; a terra-cotta patio; and bottles of medication. After…

Ancient Era

Status Hat + May 2011

The Eve of the Exodus the days united the blood of grapes and milk at the seashore and became judge of the horned snake and royal dainties and the crown of a ravenous wolf charged the field and kissed the days of mourning and went up to the threshing floor of lamentation died and was…

Virga

Brevity + September 2010

I have looked for you since 1982. It rained the day before. The curbs filled with dirty, driven-through water, and overnight the water filled up with tiny tadpoles. The next day, I made a pole from a stick and tied a bit of string to it. I knelt beside the puddle in my Gloria Vanderbilt…