The balmy faucet sounds of plastic. There–in their room–their upholstered bodies they learned under the ground glass their roomy temporal selves–a perpetual tense–holding in of a cough. HERO:There is a fly a housefly no a firefly a lightning bug no


I brought the girls cigarettes and magazines. Everyone told me not to; the doctors were quite clear. They’re dying, I said to the orderly who saw me slipping these treasures out from beneath my oversized black smock. She shook her


The wave ripples like the blade on a chainsaw drenched in Kailua. We ride the peel through the metropolis, our swiftboat rattling underfoot past skyscrapers, banks and cathedrals. “It’s peaceful tonight,” Milly says. She drops her robe and flaunts her