Augury (at childhood’s end)

Something covered his face, a flash of green, of something grotesque— something cartoon bright and monstrous, like a grinning snake or sharp-chinned goblin. The screen door's springs screeched, rusty. The hard slam sang out a full acre, calling rise to the cricket and frog songs from the marshland nearby. Fresh windrows were long, thin slashes between the house and … Continue reading Augury (at childhood’s end)


It was a country road, turning on too-fast tires and no power-steering—that old ‘76 Ford, with rust above its wheels and dragging a muffler, sparks; with crumbs on the seat and eight-track ribbon unwound into mounds, tucked under the dirty bench seat beside candy wrappers; dust clouds kicked-up and made a gritty fog. Headlights flashed to catch some surface but … Continue reading Abattoir


I don’t want these words wet on your tongue or nestled, like hair, between your teeth. Keep them inside, unspoken. Bury them in your memory like childhood, like need. Slice-open your tongue, dig into your gums, into your throat, if that’s what it takes to make some good silence. Don’t build your temple with my … Continue reading Hauntology

Enola Gay

I. Mother The steel woman ate the air with her big red lips, with her sharp teeth. She shredded morning air, gossamer clouds and carried a man inside her, in a clear bubble shell. The other men touched her constantly, and so she was made property-- polished, sleek. She opened herself up to give birth … Continue reading Enola Gay