So grateful to have my piece, The Village Card and Gift Shop, published in this anthology of stories about Main Street (from The Way Things Were -- the world before Amazon and strip malls).MAIN: An Anthology — Books by Hippocampus Magazine
Blog
Alice Austen
In the midst of revising Seeds of the Pomegranate, I keep coming across the story of photographer Alice Austen. My brother and sister-in-law lived around the block from her famous house, Clear Comfort, in Rosebank, Staten Island in the 1990s. She was the founder of...
Hello from the Adirondacks
Here I sit at my desk, working hard to complete the latest draft of my novel, Seeds of the Pomegranate. It's winter in the Adirondacks and I feel like I'm deep underground, like a seed germinating. Unseen. Quiet. This is my seventh draft of the story. I've written...
The Words
My son is here. He comes in the door and approaches me. I’m in my wheelchair. He reaches down and embraces me. I struggle to say his name, telling myself he deserves the effort. I see the letters in my mind. I try to make the sound that is his name. That name as...
The Ring
Just a Little Today
Just a little in my notebook today To chip away at the block, I promise Pen to paper – a prayer in the silence Though not always calming, not always kind Just a little today, a trickle not A tidal wave to pummel, to engulf Life’s work made so much smaller,...
The Wishbone
My father uses his fingers to pick the chicken clean; only a few scraps remaining from a roast, nearly all the parts useful, even the carcass, which he boils down to the bones. He’ll use the stock later, for a bland soup of potatoes and carrots. Once the wishbone is...
Outside The Church Window
Outside The Church Window Outside the church window Leaves tumble down Softly as flurries The leaves don’t know the season Pale yellow against verdant green Sunflowers unrelenting Zucchini ripening Coreopsis ever blooming Still they fall Death amidst abundance Only...
The Barren Mother
The Barren Mother She hadn’t wanted to look at the baby. She had seen the other two, their shrunken, purplish faces like apple cores left out to dry, obscene against the lacy collars of their christening gowns. But she had yielded, forcing herself to look at this tiny...