Wednesday, February 26, 2014

The River of White Water Lilies




"When he left the ruins of the village and rode back on the 10-ton thunder truck mounted with a quad-50 machine gun, the truck went up along the Trẹm River. In the bright morning the deep green of cajeput was breathtaking, the river white with water lilies along the edge of the riverbank, and the scents of water lily flowers perfumed the air. He watched the river go by and couldn’t make sense of what had happened. It did not add up. He watched the storks taking flight from the river, going, going until they reached their roosts in a cajput grove beyond, and he thought of a home with her.

Then he started crying."


(Available for Purchase)

Friday, February 21, 2014

Seize the Moment

When your book is reviewed by a teen, it’s news.

Welcome to the world of Nassem Al-Mehairi, the 14-year-old prodigy, the reviewer of Flesh (Black Heron Press, 2012).


Thursday, February 20, 2014

Red Rose, Yellow Rose

"I remembered the wedding picture Uncle sent home when I was in high school. The woman in the wedding portrait shone with a such a ravishing elegance that I fell in love with the bride in the photograph. In it Uncle looked much older than his bride. Handsome, yes, but stodgy.  He could have been her uncle as well as mine. What had she found in him that led her to say I do?"
   

SPRING 2014 ISSUE

(available for purchase)

Monday, February 10, 2014

The Dream Catcher



"Denise’s head tilted to one side on the pillow and she was breathing steadily. Her platinum hair shimmered in the reflection of the light. 



What I had told her about the massacre in Huế left an echo in my head. Fifteen years had passed. In this country, you don’t see the gunships, the Skyraiders roaring every time you look up the sky. At night you don’t hear the cannon booming in the distance, an AK-47 crackling down the street. The night flows into morning without curfew."
 


Monday, February 3, 2014

Love Is a Souvenir




"From inside the shack Ian waited until Sarge moved on. Those bear-like deliberate brisk steps. Ian sighed. If he hadn’t met Little Mouse, if he hadn’t sat in that card game, if he hadn’t pawned that Zippo . . .

Good thing Sarge didn’t use his Zippo. Good thing Little Mouse didn’t see it."



Saturday, February 1, 2014

The Virgin's Mole


"Each time I heave the cupboard, despite my knowing what I will see when I drop my gaze at her, I still look down through the crescent opening below her clavicles, holding my gaze at the milky white of her skin, the fullness of her bosom, and what comes back to my mind is a child’s innocent eyes and a man’s disturbed thoughts."