Sarah, the sky that overlooks you and me, it opened up again today. The light that fills up the dogwoods is the same that curdles the cemetery gardenias. This has become summer once more, so you probably remember how things are colored, and then erased, without me telling you. We have taken to planting crops […]

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The Great twenty-one

Gina, in one of our last bewildered days, stood beside me at arm’s length inside the bone-cracked shack we shared. We watched that day finish in a purl of pretty mauve. We heard the timpani come from the open-windowed kitchens of steam-plaited spoons upon handed-down soup bowls and we waited for Mister Constantine’s late-day aria […]

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The last angel of the Lord

I thought I was kneeling before the last angel of the Lord, knees crimped in a puddle of Oklahoma dirt, feet swole in my least pair of shoes. “I am done being exhausted by you,” I cried out. “I have lived my years as well as I knew. I have worn my face as honest […]

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A slow catena of ghosts

Oh, Maria, this road: It has taken me to places I never want to see again, shown me a hundred fevered fields bearing fruit through rough clay skin. It is an untidy tapestry of blunted hearts bound by the same heavy weave, a slow catena of ghosts singing what they can remember in the words […]

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The nineth part of a sparrow

(Adult language and sexual themes) Thersites: Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters! his evasions have ears thus long. I have bobbed his brain more than he has beat my bones: I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, and his pia mater is not worth the nineth part of a sparrow. […]

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Cinnamon Suites

Suite 1 Evelyn-Jean Jones knows she does not look like that beige-blonde girl on page 28 of her brother’s Field & Stream October issue — the page with the below-the-fold advertisement for Kodiak boots and, apparently, women’s shorty-shorts — the magazine he keeps buried under his collage of college brochures — the brochures he broodily […]

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A slight confession of sins

lower-case he and me Late Thursday breakfast, at last I confessed myself  to a poorly-dressed but well-bearded priest.  This priest (I did not catch his name, so I will call him   Father, or perhaps lower-case he),  was a sleepy-eyed fool behind his drugstore specs,  and he did not recall the extent of my sins […]

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Dimitri and me

Dimitri and me we lived by the sea we saw a horizon hard and infinite  a great ruthless sea conversationally intimate a sea so calm yet god so deliberate we saw and we drank our darkest wines and we watched the deepest ships unwind ahead of us far beyond us far between us for a […]

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