American Author

Fiction


 

“Excerpts from a Report of the Commission”

It is the summer of ’65, the lip of the Apocalypse, on the cusp without knowing it, and you have not left me. Skirts are rising everywhere, stage curtains to the mysterious, hints of thigh and lower necklines, the Pill invented. The world winks, poised with promises . . .  more


 

“Psalm”

In the car, his immense and hairless hands melding with the steering wheel, David accelerated into the bank of the curve, weight shifting, the outside wheels lifting, giddying him for a moment with gravity’s loss, caught as if in a morning dream of flight, his fear giving way to intimations of immortality; not an idea but a feeling, an hormonal surge: mistakes couldn’t be made . . . this was real.    more


 

“Body Language,” a novel-in-progress

The alcove’s hall was almost dark. I waited there—impatient, so reluctantly at work—for the woman inside to answer my knocks. Sounds spiraled up the staircase of the old apartment house like surf in a conch:  a ringing phone, a thudding door, the distant scudding of a cough . . . the metal whisk of a spoon against a pot. Inside still, though, there was no response.   more