Featured Work

Selected Works

The Whitney Museum, 1997

Ekphrastic Poem for Jay Defeo If you have formed a Circle go into it, go into it yourself and see how you would do.– William Blake In a rented studio on Fillmore Streetshe worked on her obsessioncolossal circleslike the ones she used to draw…

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Drink Up

Flash Fiction They drank green cocktails with cucumber slices, ate hotdogs on buttered buns, and listened to an a cappella version of “Lilac Wine” sung by a young man with pumpkin orange hair.  “Drink up, sweets,” Ramona said. She punched her boyfriend’s shoulder.  His bald…

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Guardian Angel

[flash fiction] We fell asleep on the couch, alcohol on our breaths. Mambo and cha-cha-cha beats in our knees. Damn two-dollar high-heels left welts on our feet, but we danced all night with different brilliantine men: gold teeth, mustaches, pinky rings that looked too…

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Last Kingdom in Astoria

Helena, you used to call me your King. Now your ashes are in an urn that sits in a niche at Calvary.

Mariss calls me the king like she feels nothing for her father like I’m a big joke to her. And at sixteen, she acts like I should be happy she’s around. She’s doing me a favor, and I tolerate this because I still have you watching over us, soothing my deepest insecurities. But Helena, how can you help me now?

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