Progressive stages of revision eliminate incidence in favor of essence.
My son trims a curtain of lashes, immures them into a stray year.
The distant past returned—what part of it, he could not decide.
History howls for direction so I remind him how the hero was lost.
I used bravado to protect myself when we lived in poverty.
The preacher looked me in the eye. He laid his hand on my chest.
The presents you receive will not have been chosen with such care.
My grandfather committed my grandmother to a mental asylum.
Lebanon’s dreams of a homeland were fading with every rocket launch.
I want to focus on bears. On knowing them, and on what they need.
The hawk moves out of the way to let a little hot package of breath rise up.
The survival of our world depends upon the cultivation of better language.
“We see you tryin’ to hide. Ain’t no use tryin’ to hide in God’s House.”
Have two children to keep around the house in case one goes missing.
Chess was a humiliation that hung over him like a leper’s bell.
“I’d like to talk to C about her personal statement,” Blattman said.
Advance planning was never Hank’s strong suit, he had to leave her.
Fiction, no matter how short or long, is the art form of human yearning.
I grabbed him by the face and told him life only comes to a person once.
For me, Selweh was the real magic. She was nothing like my mother.
I have, in the long solitude of my body, asked for something else.
The chocolate was old, dusty white, the way chocolate gets after many years.
I was writing copy for cheapo furniture for a crummy ad agency.
To articulate sweet sounds together is to work harder than all these.
Since I am in my seventies, it is now or never, and I know it.
Identify where you came from, where you are, and where you wish to go.
They taught us do not touch it, but who can keep from touching it?
Art touches the soul and moves life in ways that commerce cannot. E. L. Doctorow noted that writers seem to get business ideas almost right.