Click on the links below to read short fiction in the Shenandoah, 3:AM Magazine, Baltimore Review, and Drunken Boat.
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“Gar”
Have you ever had a ‘pauletate’?
No.
Do you know what an ‘armournte’ is?
No.
If you were given a bag of wool what would you do with it? READ MORE at Shenandoah
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“Adios Puerto Lempira”
After Miles Davis’s Spanish Key
This happened yesterday. Or maybe a long time ago. No, it’s happening right now. The sky is the colour of blister water, and the abandoned refinery is burning in the distance. This spit of land is spit into the warm waters of the green sea is shining in the beach roil like camel’s hair and here we stand at the edge of all things. Puerto Lempira. This has happened before. It’s happening right now. READ MORE at 3:AM Magazine
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“Buckets”
The boat was carrying buckets, several thousand of them, in the hold, by way of Panama—we had made the canal without incident, and were now en plein Caribe as the tender, a Frenchman from Algeria, liked to say. The boat wasn’t big, ninety feet from stem to stern, an old chugger with a busted diesel belching black smoke in great spiraling tourbillons that the vast Caribbean sky swallowed in gulps. I would go down into the hold nights—as second mate I had free run and to tell the truth there wasn’t much to do on that old iron-bellied porringer. Of course the buckets weren’t just lying around down there—they were in boxes, stacked three high, and I would stare at them, and then crawl back up the old rusted ladder and stand on the deck as the moonlight flooded our pale churned up wake. READ MORE at the Baltimore Review
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“Born”
In the spring, he started cutting school, hiding behind a gardenia bush in the backyard until his mom left for work, then creeping back inside … READ MORE
“Wetlands”
We park along a culvert in a graveled pullover, out past Opa-Locka, beyond the developments. Miami lies east of us, its flatlands radiating in darkness … READ MORE