My essay “Nine Parrot Tulips” will soon be appearing in the winter issue of The Antioch Review. To learn more about the journal, click the link below.
An essay called “The First Forever” appears in the Summer 2018 issue of 1966, a journal out of Trinity College (Texas) that features long-form creative nonfiction.
To experience the writing go here:
Bat City Review—a literary journal out of the University of Texas (Austin)—is featuring Chapter 5 of it all melts down to this: a novel in timelines.
To sample this work, follow the link below
A spread consisting of eight works from Phase One of “Cage Dies Bird Flies,” my on-going collaboration with painter Dale Williams, will appear in Issue #60 of the Hayden’s Ferry Review. To visit this print journal’s website, follow the link below:
“On the day of the attacks of September 11, 2001, the poet Robert Dana called from Iowa to see how I was doing. It meant everything to hear his strong baritone voice on that harrowing day when I, like tens of thousands, fled Manhattan on foot, walking downtown, toward the smoke and fire, to reach a bridge to Brooklyn. I described the dust-covered New Yorkers–the downtown refugees–and surgeons in scrubs waiting outside Bellevue for survivors not materializing. He described contacting an old Iowa Workshop friend of his, Donald Justice, to sort through the events. There were no calls that night from my family. I trusted that my mother, though, would closely check any printed list of victims for the name of her estranged oldest child. Several days after the attack, my sister Marianna left a few words on my work voice mail. She sounded as if speaking through a pillow, half-smothered. She said she missed me. That Marianna–of them all–would be the one to call was astonishing. She was coping the worst of anyone with her difficult past. Yet she was the one to make the effort. It was all backward. It was all so strange. She did not leave a return number or say where she was. She sounded lost. She really did miss me and I missed her. What I did not miss was the family situation that had done that to her once-vibrant voice, muted it and then all but silenced it. There were alternatives. I had found one. I had my own fragile life to keep clinging to.” (p. 423, River Bend Chronicle: The Junkification of a Boyhood Idyll amid the Curious Glory of Urban Iowa)