Out at the end of the world on a long spit of land like a finger poking into oblivion, nestled in a valley among the dunes, sat The Church of Saint Ifritia, constructed from twisted driftwood and the battered hulls of ships. There was one tall, arched window composed of the round bottoms of blue bottles.
Read MoreRelic
He had no idea that I loved him. He barely acknowledged that I existed, a maid twice over, little more than a shadow in empty hallways. Trapped in unhappy marriage and prisoner in his own castle, he did not conceive that anyone loving him was even possible. The baron was a man of war, not of love.
Read MoreBlood from StoneThe little boy gazed up at the beautiful girl seated cross-legged on a tree stump. She wore tights, a sparkly skirt, and enormous plastic wings. Her wild hair was decorated with twigs, leaves and flowers. Her small, pointed face was painted with make-up. Strands of plastic ivy decorated the guitar across her lap.
Read MoreSprigWhen I was twenty years old, my best friends and I stepped off the edge of the world.
Read MoreSplinterWhispers prowl through the rubble that surrounds the leaning house. Half-fallen buildings stand on either side, as though a careless giant strode through the town and only by chance missed the one house—surely when the gods choose to wreak destruction on all, they are not so capriciously merciful to one.
Read MoreErzulie DantorThe translation of Goxhat poetry presents many problems, due in part to the Goxhat language, but also to the biological and social realities that underlie the language. The foremost problem is the Goxhat’s ambiguous sense of personal identity.
Read MoreThe Glutton: A GoxHat Accounting ChantBelly rumbles. Step over stones. This group. Together. Always together.
Read MoreAlways the Same. Till it Is Not.In the final decades of her rule that was characterized by an intense yearning to preserve memory, Mon Jiera, Reina of Lusan, Protector of Bisyas, and First Citizen of Danao, decreed the creation of a precise replica of her three maritime kingdoms.
Read MoreSimon’s ReplicaIt was Christmas eve, 1970, and Sonny Liston was about the furthest thing you could imagine from a handsome man.
Read MoreSonny Liston Takes the Fall