Today, I came across a link to this list of the 10 best nonfiction pieces of the past 50 years. They are all classics, but I must confess, there are still a couple I haven’t read. If you are a fan of creative nonfiction, I highly recommend these! After a weekend away in Newport eating lobster roll after lobster hash after lobster bisque, I think it may be time for a reread of David Foster Wallace’s humorous yet thought-provoking “Consider the Lobster”. Or maybe after my trip to San Francisco, it is time to revisit Joan Didion’s “Slouching Towards …Read article
You wouldn’t think that a New Yorker would ever have the problem of too much produce on hand. You go to the corner store, pick up enough zucchini for that recipe you found and cook it. Right?
There has been a recent surge in urban farming, farmers markets and CSAs throughout Brooklyn and the rest of New York. People, despite being surrounded by cement and only seeing trees surrounded by guards, want to know where there food is coming from and get back in touch with their food supply. Community gardens and rooftop farms are cropping up all over the …Read article
Dad, The Maker
My dad started I don’t know how many novels before he finished his first—when he was 52 years old. I would occasionally see printed-out sections of the novels, lying on the big cherry table that served as our family computer desk. I’d read a paragraph or two before my interest would fizzle—surely, more the fault of my buzzing teenaged mind than the engagingness of the writing. Also, I knew he was private, and superstitious, about most of his writing, so I, already halfway logged on to America Online, would happily abide what I guessed would …Read article
Arya F. Jenkins
I am wrapping my un-chicken salad to take to work. Jean says, “You’re doing that wrong. Plus you need more pita.” A few minutes later, as I apply lipstick, she tells the mirror, “I just read on Yahoo, lipstick is bad for you.”
Jealous of these things because they touch my mouth, she is attempting to reclaim me. A silver pen bought at Tiffany’s last week meant to remind me of her generosity and ownership.
But I am not hers.
She is the one who said to me, “Come out here to live with me. …Read article
This winter promises to be
one for the record books, like
1978 when the garage collapsed
under the snow and ice.
We’re going to suffer each time we
step out of the house and reach for
the thin newspaper in its sheer
near break our necks on the
driveway ice once a day.
Many will cross their fingers each time
they turn the ignition and hear the grind
of frozen iron;
perhaps even break a key off, like
my older brother did in the frail light
of December 1971 when the sky looked…Read article
The Lone Inhabitant of the Gratiot South-Leg Traffic-Control Island
A traffic-control island is a defined area between traffic lanes
for control of vehicle movements or for … refuge.
— Manual on Uniform Traffic Control Devices, Part IV,
“Islands” Section 4A-1 “The Functions of Islands” 1961
The form of a single body lies utterly still on a little triangle of Detroit. In between the clumps of tall grass, still green despite the summer heat, the body doesn’t move even one muscle. There’s a grimy baseball cap clutched to the body’s head by a handful of rundown fingernails. This body …Read article
The Speaking Poem
Human beings continually record their individuality in the creases of the language….
Claude Hagege, The Dialogic Species
What is a poem the Zen master said
but a small breach in the blindness
of seeing as others have seen.
What is a poem but a feather
lifting and falling in an
Brothers and Sisters.
If to meet on the bridge
that is the poem.
If to let go the ligatures
that bind the language
I suggest to you:
poem is the secret agent
of our emancipation
out of the maze
out of …Read article
The Beetle Leopard
THE BEETLE LEOPARD was about the size of a large cocker spaniel, with a coat like the coat of a tortoiseshell cat: uneven, mostly dark, of mottled browns and blacks. The private company that kept him in his vivarium on Pigeon Street claimed he was the only beetle leopard on Earth. Under the glass, which was always smudged with fingerprints, was a plaque:
This Beetle Leopard Was Rescued by S. Barry Gibson
Co-Founder and C.E.O. of Gibson and Bree,
from Poachers on the Island of Borneo.
Please Do Not Disturb the Beetle Leopard.
He Is …Read article
Thursday Night in College Town
Franklin Avenue is alive
with creeping night crawlers
trolling the jaundice-washed asphalt.
Everyone wants to fuck or fight
everyone else, trying to out-do the next person
in either case. The heirs of newfound freedom
take boisterous voices and blend them
with dark shades
of parentless weekends
and loans upon loans
spent on cheap beer and plastic cups.
Ping pong balls swirl
in a whirligig night, the sky orange,
the baseball hats askew,
the leggings gripping hard, separating sex-
starved minds and bodies
from each other by thin fabric
as synthetic as the moment …
It’s me and Franco Franco and we’re laugh rattling in the back of chemistry class like a pair of rotten tomatoes, like two tennis shoes tied together, like telephone cord curled in on itself, like the horizontal red white and green the other boys see when we punch their socks out.
It’s me and Franco Franco and we’re crammed in his sick-ass yellow mustang, our eyes watering, our cocks growing like hot commas against our jeans as we look at all the boom-boom babies at the burger joint, all the Mary Maries, and the Angelinas, and …Read article