“Boys Will Be”
I let myself believe that we felt the same defiance, the same degree of angry and powerless and omnipotent and free.
“Father as Natural Disaster”
CutBank
“Loss” was a countable noun in his language. A loss was something you could look at, something you could drive toward and past; a heap of singed objects, or, depending on the duration and ferocity of the fire, a collection of absence.
“Thirteen Ways of Looking”
Porter House Review
Snowmounds crowd the water like billows of plastic, the surface stolid as cement. A throb to the right of the old riverboat—there, a sedan’s white skull bobbing beside an ice floe.