(Working on what I hope will be the final draft of this book. This scene is about 3/4s of the way in.) Annie McCracken hurried down the Jorgensen’s driveway like she couldn’t wait to get away from me. Jesus, I…

It's me! Roberta! Moving headfirst down the birth canal, dangerously stuck for hours in my mother's fear-saturated passageway-- --suddenly cold metal forceps clamp onto my little head, pull for dear life, Look! I swim out into an ocean of air,…

The great Russian theater director, actor and acting teacher Konstantin Stanslavski once wrote that the reason most of the people who become actors do so is because deep down inside them they suspect that someone else’s life is more interesting…

A powerful thing, desire. Perhaps the most powerful thing on our planet…..

One night, in Graduate School, a woman from some Association for The Blind came to our class. Part of her presentation included an underlit, unfocussed video of a group of blind adults dancing. Some were dancing where they sat, some…

Have you noticed there's never enough space for dancing or even for singing? If I should call you up And spend a dime And you say you belong to me And rest my mind WQell that's the way it ought…

Buttery, flaky, almond –encrusted coffee cake –my mouth waters, and I can almost smell the sugar from where I am sitting on the far end of the overstuffed sofa. This entire yellow house on Scott Street is a pastry of…

My words have sometimes hurt people; they have hurt me. They didn’t come out as poems, they came out as barf, as missiles when I have been hurt and am angry and want to hurt back. I wish I could…

From Wikipedia: “Rabbits hold widespread cultural significance as symbols of fertility, abundance, and new life, a connection stemming from their rapid reproduction. They also represent cleverness and transformation, seen in trickster figures like Br'er Rabbit and the Moon Rabbit of…

[back to fiction] Amelia scanned the village's plaza opposite her hotel. At noon the only shadows are two black squares under the two empty benches. Behind them, a fountain sits dry nearby with not even a weed growing along its…

Hope is a thing with feathers--a bird, but what kind of bird? One of those cheery, bouncy sparrows that fly down to you when you sit on a park bench? A crow who embodies the hope that you'll feed it…

Poetry is what we think and do not say because we're not used to anyone listening, no one has ever said, hey, she's worth listening to. No, our parents told us be quiet or shut up mind your own business…