#AmericanWriters
So early it’s still almost dark ou… I’m near the window with coffee, and the usual early morning stuff that passes for thought. When I see the boy and his friend
It’s what the kids nowadays call w… like clouds from his lips. He hope… comes along tonight, or calls to a… Help is what he’s most short on to… A storm thrashes outside. Heavy s…
These fish have no eyes these silver fish that come to me… scattering their roe and milt in the pockets of my brain. But there’s one that comes—
Fear of seeing a police car pull i… Fear of falling asleep at night. Fear of not falling asleep. Fear of the past rising up. Fear of the present taking flight.
As he writes, without looking at t… he feels the tip of his pen begin… The tide is going out across the s… But it isn’t that. No, it’s because at that moment she ch…
it gets run over by a van. you find it at the side of the roa… and bury it. you feel bad about it. you feel bad personally,
Early one Sunday morning everythi… the child’s canopy bed and vanity… the sofa, end tables and lamps, bo… of assorted books and records. We… kitchen items, a clock radio, hang…
She serves me a piece of it a few… out of the oven. A little steam ri… from the slits on top. Sugar and s… cinnamon - burned into the crust. But she’s wearing these dark glass…
He said it doesn’t look good he said it looks bad in fact real… he said I counted thirty-two of th… I quit counting them I said I’m glad I wouldn’t want t…
Long before he thought of his own… my dad said he wanted to lie close to his parents. He missed them so after they went away. He said this enough that my mother…
They were in the living room. Say… goodbyes. Loss ringing in their ea… They’d been through a lot together… they couldn’t go another step. Bes… there was someone else. Tears were…
This blind man, an old friend of my wife’s, he was on his way to spend the night. His wife had died. So he was visiting the dead wife’s relatives in Connecticut. He called my wife from ...
I woke up with a spot of blood over my eye. A scratch halfway across my forehead. But I’m sleeping alone these days… Why on earth would a man raise his…
A few minutes ago, I stepped onto… of the house. From there I could… and everything that’s happened to… It was hot and still. The tide wa… No birds sang. As I leaned agains…
October. Here in this dank, unfa… I study my father’s embarrassed yo… Sheepish grin, he holds in one han… of spiny yellow perch, in the othe… a bottle of Carlsbad Beer.
