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The Long Consequence

There in front of the house was his son’s ratty old Thunderbird.

The Long-Lost Love Letters of Doc Holliday

The sense of power that flights of temper evoke will betray you.

The Looking Glass

The Lusitania

A coldness bumped a last kiss upon my cheek, a good-bye kiss sliding across.

The Making of a Writer

The Making of a Writer

Write simple sentences. Report. Don’t moralize. No pretensions.

The Matador and the Bull

If, on your deathbed, you want to watch a movie, don’t let me pick.

The Memory Theater

We want to revisit what life was like before technology infected us.

The Merwin Conservancy

Merwin discovered and restored eighteen acres of abandoned land.

The Monolith

Jane’s made it clear, this Renuka might not even become a doctor.

The Murder

He always talked of making money with the air of a connoisseur.

The Musician

She accused her husband with great drama of having destroyed her life.

The Nature of Desire

To fulminate, to go on a tear, because what’s wanted is forbidden.

The New Lustration

A man sits in the Institute of National Memory examining files.

The New Privacy

I ask if you are all right until you can be nothing but not all right, not okay.

The News from Hell

The stupider the president the more power you arrange for him.

The Night Before

I hadn’t even tried. I was one of the few kids D.A.R.E. had worked on.

The Night I Watched My Twelve-Year-Old Brother Get Cuffed & Taken from Our Home, Tearing Up, Saying: “I Didn’t Do It!”

Of course he escaped. He would be the one. My legendary brother.

The Nose

The Only Way Out Is Through

Derek was holding a gun. The barrel was pointed at his own temple.

The Orangutan

Sneaking was one thing, entering a bar with a someone else’s ID another.

The Painted Veil

Kitty reached the age of twenty-five and was still unmarried.

The Palace of the People

Part of me wished I’d never tried heroin. The rest wanted to be high.

The Perfect Couple

It had been four weeks and five days since she confronted him.

The Phone Rings

Once she had loved him. When had she stopped? She did not know.

The Pink Door

The little door would appear in my mind’s eye, except that now it was ajar.

The Poem Is the Story

Sometimes a story is like a beehive. Sometimes an idea is like a poem.

The Poet

I know quite well that I’m still a beginner and have a long way to go.

The Portrait of What Is Not There

The noiseless trees, the insentient breezes that are not there.

The Prayer Book

I thought fleetingly he might give it to me, as he knew I wanted it.