Retracing
It’s easy to disappear in the dampness of this town. Twelve moons ago, my mother wandered through a murky labyrinth of streets and bridges, crossing canal after canal—like I do now—leaving no footsteps. Cold air snakes across her face and…
Snug Harbor Brussels
On September 12, I’ll be reading from new and published work in the Muntpunt Grand Café in Brussels, where I'll share the stage with author Kaite Welsh. Be welcome and join us for a drink and literary exchange.
The Cost of Living
Our six phones flatline before we arrive. The world that wears us down is out of reach. We alight from the car feeling airy and free. It's not our baggage that keeps us from floating; it's the weight of our…
Forest of Friends
Vic had his eye on a promise, a potentially fixable cool box buried underneath the junk. He was digging it up when the rain, only nagging before, began to bucket down. He rushed to the edge of the dump and…
Double Life
I felt vulnerable, as anyone would when lying half undressed on a table with their legs spread in metal stirrups and the hands of a stranger touching them, their labia, their cervix—my body. "Try to relax," the doctor said.
Skopelos: To Write or Not to Write
I won’t write about my month on Skopelos because if I did,I would have to tell you how lucky I feel to wake up each day to a view of the sea, which is always and never the same, and…
