The Gift of Quiet Legacies

On Saturday, I wrote a eulogy for my grandfather. It involved gifts – a VCR for my family when my parents didn’t (couldn’t?) buy one, stuffed rabbits outside the door of his home in Florida one Easter morning, glazed donuts – a dozen –...

Craving Stories

Wash your bones of their narrative. It was not always as it is. — from “Wind in a Box” by Terrance Hayes A tall lean man in a straw hat walks on a dirt road.  His skin glows like chocolate syrup poured from a sauce pan.  The creases by his mouth are...

I Miss the Rasp of Paper

Last night, P and I ventured into Staples. As we stepped through the glass doors, P said, “It smells like a school in here.” “I know. It’s dangerous. I have to keep moving, get what I need, and get out.” And it’s true. I can blow a...