March 2012
7 posts
5 tags
Hemmingway’s Guide To Make Love to a Beautiful...
BY: Dylan Lenz
Adelina was still soft though she had hardened since the war had made its way through Palermo and her father had died and her brother had gone off to join the Americans as they made their way north. There had been many offers from many soldiers and there were many nights when she had grown lonesome. Since her husband had died early on in the war, she was inclined to dismiss her...
February 2012
7 posts
9 tags
NOVEL EXCERPT:
CHAPTER ONE
Born to nothing we will dream as kings and oh the kingdoms we will build. It was times like these that David Lowe would recall the last words of Harry Bradshaw but it was not the time for memories of better men and simpler times.
He stood before the union offices. The Pacific Shipbuilders inhabited a small corner of the second floor of a building that was not grand, or worth...
6 tags
The Worker
The Worker
It was November and ice formed small circles at the base of each of the posts on the dock and the men’s breath hung heavy a moment before it disappeared. The five sat smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee from tin thermoses that warmed their hands as they stood arm-to-arm watching as the lake pitched slowly back and forth and mostly they were silent and content with the...
4 tags
A Chorus for Stella and 5th St. Hotel Rooms in...
*** A revised poem for CRWR 260.
In Illinois I’ll get drunk
Do champaign in Champaign
With Pollyanna and assorted TV guests from my childhood
They’ll leave and she’ll stay,
Naked,
I hope,
But I know that orphans, champagne, and televisions are liars.
Bookends tie off dog-eared mid-century shit.
John Berryman remains
With Bob’s Tarantula, and while Polly undresses
I notice she’s...
9 tags
The Artist's Resume: →
5 tags
3AM
At three in the morning I hear him coughing. I get up and go to the other room. He is lying on the bed I used to sleep in. A white sheet thrown over top of him are a swill of white arcs that crumple with his legs. The sheet is transparent almost, soaked in the sweat that delicately covers his brow. He coughs again and again and I go to him. He’s asleep still.
His face is unshaven. White stubble...