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“In the end the guys hand gets chopped off.” “So?” “What do you mean, “so?” The guy doesn’t have a hand anymore.” “Sure it’s sad, but it’s not tragic or anything.” “Well, then how do you propose I end the story, Shakespeare?” “End it the same-just add another layer to it. Wow, surprised you evenContinue reading “mobsters who write”

If Regina George from Tina Fey’s classic Mean Girls were a city, she would be London. There are a myriad of reasons why, but I will delve into them later. For now let’s go with the obvious. Regina, of course, means Queen in Latin, Italian, and Romanian. Regina is the Queen Bee of the PlasticsContinue reading “Regina Coeli”

The day of that party I walked up the stairs to your apartment, and a fourth of the way up it dawned on me the stairwell was unfamiliar to me. I couldn’t remember how many steps there were, or how to navigate them in the dark-something I easily mastered many drunken nights before. When I reached the top,Continue reading “Take Away The Details”

If you never thought the words “necrophilia” and “gorgeous” could be in the same sentence, you haven’t seen “Persefone” yet. An official selection of the 26th annual New Orleans Film Festival, I had the honor of attending the screening a few weeks ago with the director, (e mia amica nuova), Grazia Tricarico. Although only about fifteen minutesContinue reading “Review of “Persefone,” directed by Grazia Tricarico”

Sometimes, you come in contact with someone that you relate to on a, for lack of a better term, cosmic level. But-you’re not meant to know them for long, or become their lover, you’re just meant to meet them. The reason usually isn’t clear why, and sometimes it never is, but the experience you haveContinue reading “Collecting Fire”

To Modern Plumbing, Caroline: I met you in the bathroom of the Glasshouse in Sligo. You told me your grandparents were buried by Yeats and that you wanted me to marry your brother. Then you freaked me out with a lecture on Northern Ireland and the Protestants, but at least we were drunk. At theContinue reading “Where We Go”

The night the lights went out you took the Bic from my pocket and lit a Marlboro candle *** Our tobacco stained kitchen didn’t mind the loss of the fridge and the ice machine *** Didn’t interrupt our voices, because all that was left were my words waiting for yours *** We found that oldContinue reading “The Day the Eastern Seaboard Went to Sleep”

We split an apple once. Straight down the middle. You made a joke about what you thought the core looked like and I laughed. We didn’t really know each other but you liked that I knew the French call orgasm “le petit mort,” or “the little death,” and I liked you were the type ofContinue reading “French and other languages I don’t know”

People bring all kinds of shit onto the subway. People got their bikes on there, their dogs, their brand new 55’ inch television. You know what I’m talking about? I don’t know how they get some of this shit down here. But sometimes it ain’t even some shit you can see. You have the terminalContinue reading “People Bring All Kinds”

As a writer, I am always searching for the next word or phrase that perfectly and accurately describes how I feel or what I’m trying to say. Unfortunately, sometimes that word can’t be found in English, or Swahili, or Mandarin, but I’ll discover a phrase a year later in some language that only three people left on Earth speak thatContinue reading “A little behind “a word I haven’t found yet””