http://abandon.org Just another WordPress weblog Tue, 06 May 2008 06:06:19 +0000 http://backend.userland.com/rss092 en I'm sorry. The truth is you were just a sad consolatory stand-in while I waited for the real world (for years and years) to publish my fiction. And now it is publishing my fiction. And now I must admit that I love paper and ink and bookstores and killing ... http://abandon.org/?p=31 Oh what haven’t you heard already---everyone has a story of some sad and skeletal beloved, wasting away with the poison still in their blood; you know all about their bald heads and glossy stares and the opiates that kill the pain but make them hallucinate late at night; they call ... http://abandon.org/?p=30 I dream of an old and ugly house—burnt by the sun and rotted by rain, left to dissemble herself, plank by plank and brick by brick, on the outskirts of some lonely shrinking town. She smells of moldering wood and forest lichens, her gutters choked with vegetation, her attic moaning ... http://abandon.org/?p=29 And so it remains a secret reverie. It is a little jackal that sits crouched in the back of her skull, hungry and ridden with fleas, stalking the gray wet bloom of her brain and saying feedmefeedmefeedme. She coddles it, it’s true. She likes to tend to that little beast, ... http://abandon.org/?p=27 So when he pulled me down into the cane fields, I sunk my teeth into his neck and tasted the salt of his sweat under the high noon, in the dirt, among the wiregrass that scratched at my bare skin, and I thought, Okay, here I am. Okay, here ... http://abandon.org/?p=26 Imagine it from the beginning: before myself and my sister, before the house and the gardens and the quiet wedding, before the happy long-lived marriage and my father’s death, before anyone else in the world had ever even imagined they might exist together: my parents held each other in some ... http://abandon.org/?p=25 Remember the day. Your mother bent-necked over the kitchen counter, two letters side by side, one to you, one to her. A telegram, the black star, smell of collard greens and your little brothers playing in the backyard (walled). Laundry blowing on the line. Your ... http://abandon.org/?p=24 There is a river that runs in my head that knows no destination, no springwell or determined terminus, but I am always looking outward for some sign of the welcoming sea; you know that murky belt where freshwater merges with the salt of the ocean, brown and surging in and ... http://abandon.org/?p=23 My dad died last week and I'm taking a little break from public writing. I'll be back soon again, though, I promise. http://abandon.org/?p=22 In the afternoon when Anse was asleep and with the last one still walking home from school, instead of going to gut and clean the fish I would walk down the road to the arboretum where I could sit quiet and hate them. It would be still at the ... http://abandon.org/?p=21