Whatever you do, don’t cash them in, not before floods melt margarine in the honeyed light of the last diamond setting. Atoms come in assorted sizes and pigeons coo in
My past was gone. Days blurred. I tore apart journals, ripped out one page at a time. People came to the house after the funeral and pretended to know me.
My eyes traced the ball’s path toward the goal. I heard and saw everything at once. A seagull cried. Its shadow floated along the field. The smell of fertilizer from
I wanted to tell him none of my girlfriends would expect me to listen to them talk for a half hour non-stop unless someone in their family had just
There’s a motel in vampire land Where spider plants grow baby bats And zombies float face down inside bathtubs. I wear a black mask that covers my nose and mouth.
I was first introduced to Octavia Butler in a writing class at San Francisco State University. We read a selection from one of her books, just enough to make me