Article

Mahler

It is Because I am Obsessed with This thing. . . . It overtakes me. Do I conjure it Out of space, Scratching its Sound on paper In the tilted gazebo? I only know I Do hear it — there. I am brushed by The precise flit Of its shadow, Enervated by Each visitation. Like…

Ballgame

excerpt from a novel in progress (. . .Anna Maye Potts is thirty-six, fat, unmarried; since her mother's death some twenty years ago, she has been keeping house for her father and working days in a nearby candy factory. Now her father is dead too, and her younger sister, Mary, who is married and has…

Afternoon Tea

Nous five-o’clockerons àminuit. “Will you have aspirin in your ink?” “Thank you. I prefer it black.” I bled a little into the milk to give it a character of my own. “I see you have a character of your own.” “I like the taste of my own overripe fruit.” We were silent while he sipped…