I’ve never thought of myself as someone with a scar, but in this portrait, the damage from a dog bite is clearly visible next to my nose. A dent, a scratch, and a bump, a kind of trinity.
(fiction)
Tag: photography
The latest in our FORTHCOMING series of excerpts from new books
“In the end when they ask would I do it again // I’ll shake my head: where does one draft / end and another begin?”
I might have lived a life or two / instead of counting steps in the parking lot, / between the rust-colored cars, / missing you.
The summer heat sprawls on my skin like a thick cover of wet glue.
(nonfiction)
To be seen was to be ashamed and to admit to experiencing pleasure was to be disgusting.
(nonfiction)
I held my magazines in my lap and looked longingly out the window, believing myself to be a melancholic character in the movie of my life.
(fiction)
I compliment / the man on his black leather jacket and he hangs it on my / shoulders and says, I think you’ll like it better than me, bunny.
i go to school to see mary but learn louis xvi was beheaded in front of an empty / pedestal
When I see a half-fallen curtain, / I see an eye on the verge of sleep.
(poetry)
But those who press the grapes now, / who toil from morning till night, / they’ve disowned us…
✶✶✶✶
I have not / strayed far from the dead. I see their hip favored / executives and can pick them out from big / crowds
the cup’s round mouth // gives a satisfying quiver / between the teeth
His job was merely to photograph: to catalogue the state of the problem. Save the radiology for radiologists.
(fiction)
I trip on cobblestones sticking out of the earth like busted tombstones.
(nonfiction)
It’s the last corner of paradise, here, evaporating like spit on a hot sidewalk.
(nonfiction)
“The singer experienced considerable challenges during [the 1980s] : On the positive side, she recaptured the wide public’s attention with her hit 1985 album “Who’s Zoomin’ Who?” But she also lost her father, C.L. Franklin, in 1984 after a 1979 gunshot put him in a five-year coma,” music critic Aaron Cohen writes.
Another Chicago Magazine 