Magic Realism

My cemetery is only five minutes by foot from my house. I’ve been going for walks here, a few times a week, for thirty-five years. I don’t call it mine…

My husband has taken a lover, and to make up for it, he is growing me a garden. The first day he met her, he brought home a tomato plant.…

The packages arrive on Tuesdays in boxes that fold through dimensions that shouldn’t exist. Each one hums a different frequency of sorrow, cataloged carefully in my basement where grief crystallizes…

Jim Cheff has begun posting animations of Lawrence: click for My Favorite Chair and Memories of Bruges

Here, the gods want a mighty groove, wild flight through the landscape, and a plentiful supply of Juju Junkfood. Scripture and sacrifice can be great, but they’re optional. Vestments and…

The Roof came down, and he was angry. There were more powerful gods in the house, MAAA chief among them. But MAAA rarely took enough form to interact with the…

I went to the Platt Street Bridge today and looked across the Genesee gorge at the spot where Sam Patch plummeted nearly a hundred feet to his death. By my…

I canter across the field, legs pumping, the awkward rhythm extending and extending, my calves burning, throat catching, until the rush floods in and it is her running. Lilja’s ears,…

Nine-Ball When I take my drowned brother to the pool hall, we always get a table. Nobody likes to get dripped on. Not the Thursday night frat boys, with their…

The sky is too bright for late November. The glare of the sun is garish, almost enough to sear one’s skin. A dark spot moves along the ground, fast, and…