Sep 26, 2020 | Fiction |
At that time I was into finding and cleaning the skeletons of dead things. Mostly birds. I would pull them apart, coat them in gold leaf, reassemble them wrongly and suspend them from wire frames. Little mobiles of badly made birds. I’d done a dozen or so. The gallery...
Apr 5, 2015 | Fiction |
For the last few weeks now, St. Flip of Lawndale, for whom Jesus Christ was not only personal saviour but surfing consultant as well, who rode an old-school redwood plant running just under ten feet with an inlaid mother-of-pearl cross on top and two plastic skegs of...
May 1, 2009 | Fiction |
I am not a proponent of the curtains being open. Some people know. Of course they know. People know. Everyone knows. Everyone is talking. Waiting. I have plans for them, the nosy, the inquisitive, the pitying, have developed elaborate fantasies for those who would see...
