Publications


  • “From the Roof of the Henry Vaughn Hotel”

  • “Mission Concept”

    • FLAPPERHOUSE, Issue 14, Summer 2017
    • Sometimes the astronaut is an import-export guy, the father of two. A guy who, when he returns, he sometimes checks into a motel and pretends that he’s still away…

  • “There Are No More Secrets On Planet Earth”

    • Your Impossible Voice, Issue 14, May 2017
    • Every secret ever lied about, covered up, buried, or repressed is now available for all to see, or is in the process of becoming available for all to see. The entire history of Earth, viewable by anyone with a $10,000/week subscription to Ectoscope™…

    • F(r)online, April 2017
    • I look at my hands, which now have matching bullet holes in them. I think that this must have religious significance. I tell my dad to call the Vatican. He calls an ambulance instead…

  • “The Gift”

    • Pinball Literary Magazine, Issue 11, November 2016
    • You were a nice kid. Dad babied you in a way that he didn’t with me. You wanted a kitten; he let you. Your favorite color was pink; no problem… 

  • “A Penny Short”

    • The Margins, March 2016
    • I left them both at the wedding reception. The best man was toasting the groom by listing all the women he’d given up for his new bride, and I’d had about enough… 

  • Some old stuff I wrote…

    • “The Robbery”But still, some weird little part of you won’t let go. Some stubborn and optimistic little piece of your soul just keeps insisting that your lucky day actually is going to come. You just need to hang on, one more day. Just one more day. Do not give up…

    • “The Arrival”:You never know what the heart requires. Even when you leave, you think, always, in the back of your mind, you should have stayed. And then, when you come back, you think, always, in the back of your mind, you should leave…

    • “The Solar System”: Do you remember how dad used to take us jogging? We’d all go, but you and Steven and John always wanted to play football instead. So, we’d all go to the track, but only me and dad would run the laps. You guys would go straight to the field. Even you, tiny, not even 5, you’d run out and yell for Steven to throw you the ball. He would. He’d throw it hard, but you’d catch it