Ginny

paris, valentine's day weekend i pulled away from a really short guy "je dois partir " 'por quoi?' he asked and i think he understood i pulled away from the guy who was singing at the bar "your words are pretty but they're empty you speak a language you're sure only you understand and you don't try to understand anyone else" and then he pushed me away maybe he hated what i was rambling about i pulled away from tall, dark, and handsome "i don't speak french," i said "anglais,

love poem (2009) i was digging in wet sand scoff, scoff, the shovel sighed until i hit the water and a stone i had seen it before it was milky white i felt its edges it was smooth i remembered then when i once held this rock closer to my heart when i first found this particular rock, it was on the sidewalk as i was looking down i was walking tripping on my own feet scanning the pavement there it was i took it home kept it on my nightstand there it was every night and i could

Flash painting done the night my grandmother died

The Eye When you're getting over a near-death experience, the word "fear" doesn't mean anything to you anymore.  In a roundabout way, the reminder that you're vulnerable--that this great steel wall of your skin and brain is penetrable by something greater than you--makes you feel invincible. You become numb to small things, but you're paradoxically vigilant. God threw down a pair of golden glasses that cured your nearsightedness. They hit you on the head. You're told since yo

An unperformable play. We open on an urban Caribbean plaza, the main square in a capital city. It is late morning. There are tourists...

in the living room, on the embroidered couch the light was dim, the only sign of death was in the air the stale fetor of yellow tail my...

el chiste es tan viejo la canción ha sido cantado otra vez las palabras dichas además de mi corazón latiendo como ojo parpadeando como...

i'm sitting at marthes's piano, my fingers gliding across the new keys.  new pianos are like new shoes--you have to break them in and get...

i used to sit on a bench, waiting for you watching the blue cranes picking up their feet watching the grass grow from the foreign soil...

My love for you lies still, a nut in its densest shell, vibrating. You spun the smoke of the past and blew it in my eyes. Until now I...

You called me Uvas I still have bug-eyes it was endearing it was myopia We’d stick branches wrapped in spiderwebs into trees’ knots...

You opened your mouth  and out came the sound of glass shattering I stood up and walked slowly, deliberately, away from you, glass...