I’ve got other plans. And they don’t center on ringnecks.
His chest was sweaty and his T-shirt stuck to it, bleeding black.
We were assigned straight to the lion’s muzzle, the Sardasht front.
I walk over to her for what seems to be an eternity. “May I have this dance?”
What is greater: the distance between these bodies, or their need?
When the thugs from the bank showed, up my father laughed.
He begins to realize that the impossible event may well be about to occur.
Claim to be Choctaw or Cherokee. Claim to be a princess too.
You are the only one who knows not to pour water on the flame.
He was a child. He was dead. He was the shaft of a Long-tailed Astrapia.
It had always been this way. Mothering, for my mother, was a cameo role.
I was free. The first step had been taken, and it was irrevocable.
May your wife remove her shirt and have an affair with a tornado.
All her sisters have gone to bed, dreaming dreams not like the wakeful.
At nineteen I lived for three months as an earnest cocaine addict.
Whitman may just mean: it is pretty cold, but there’s always colder.
I’ve wavered in confidence, but never on whether I was going to write.
Do we hunger after conflict as much as we hunger after justice?
The irreversible ink stain breaking the face of whatever we skate on.
No one in Lagos slouches. Bravado pulsates through the room.
I came to computers while trying to run away from literature.
I’m told that even during war, she took the time to put on lipstick.
No matter how hard I played, it was like I was performing inside a vacuum.
In the best fiction, there exists a palpable sense of discovery.
The best writers talk a story the way they put it down on the page.
It’s wrong to say the lightning is pink is nothing other than to say it’s not.
The itch of hay dust was the unscratchable itch of desire.
Welcome, little citizen. Lend me your presence, and I’ll lend you mine.
Live Dangerously! If you get hurt, the suffering will bring a new being.