we live in what kills us

this poem is a recent discovery of mine, though i’m sure it’s regularly taught in high school english classes.  its imagery is wonderful, and it resonates with me particularly now, especially the last four lines. For Julia, In the Deep Water The instructor we hire because she does not love you Leads you into the […]

She had no mercy.  He looked at her neck and thought how he would like to jab it with the knife he had for his muffin.  He knew enough anatomy to make pretty certain of getting the carotid artery.  And at the same time he wanted to cover her pale, thin face with kisses. — […]

the end of the story

lydia davis is someone you might characterize as a writer’s writer.  or a critic’s writer.  each of her collections of short stories is consistently received with high critical acclaim and praise; yet, she’s not “popular”, even by literature standards.  you could say that delillo, pynchon, roth, munro – these are “popular” “serious” north american authors. […]

now i lead a false life, an apocryphal, clandestine, invisible life, though truer than if it were real, but i was still me when i met rodney falk. — javier cercas, the speed of light, 3 i know that when i start spending interminable nights with john mcclane, dancing and jiggling to all manner of […]

obama fo’ yo mama

obama likes books.  according to an article in the nytimes by michiko kakutani, obama is a reader.  a lifelong lover of books.  mr. kakutani and i have had our differences, but i’m willing to take him on his word this time.  if i had any personal ambivalence about today’s inauguration, they have been quelled at […]