Kundalini Rouses (excerpt from my forthcoming novel, Even the Breath)

“There he is! Attila, you tramp, I can’t leave you alone, can I? One minute you’re with one girl … I barely turn my back, and there you are, curled up beside some stranger and groaning like a Swedish porn-movie star! Excuse my wolf, Ms. Did he use fang-persuasion to pressure you into petting him?” […]

Ce qui me restera … (après les funérailles de Maman)

La petite fille aux allumettes autour d’un plat de coquillettes Les oiseaux, preuve incontestable de l’envol Une reine en collier doré et ceinturon guerrier Des volutes enthousiastes au-dessus des marches du perron Des listes de trucs à faire sur des post-it rose fluo Les fenêtres ouvertes Des maisons, des maisons , des maisons aux rires chamoirés […]

What I See When I Think of Next Year …

There are no trucks: only pigeons. No steam-spouting trains: only pigeons flirting with pigeons. No lawnmowers, no leaf-blowers, no grunting AC, no airplanes (they’ve been forbidden to fly over cities since the cataclysm of WW2’s ally bombings). Only pigeons flopping about the rooftops. On Thursday mornings there is a church bell—a real one with a […]