top of page
Short Stories
Hercules - Cimarron Review
I was growing disgusted with my own company--paper-tiger executives, guys I didn't like anyway. They displayed the American crassness that comes out best in foreign countries-- the guffaws about cold showers and hot putas, the bleary-eyed belches as Agila beer bottles were strewn on the pavement, and their pasty bellies jiggling over bright surfer shorts, then hanging over the urinals.
Read Story
The Horse - Northeast Corridor
Our Trailways pulled off the macadam. I was squirming. Sitting for so long made my butt itch, so I followd the bus driver off. While he was kicking the wheel I was doing hip gyrations.
Read Story
Campesino's Daughter -Wind
Juan Peten climbed the mountain, cut the wood with his machete, and hauled it down on his back. He had been doing this, two trips per day, for thirty years. He wore the same slacks, the same thirt, and had no shoes. He didn't know the date, or even how old he was. But often he thought about his daughter. He remembered the stove tippping, flames up teh front of her dress engulfing ehr. The horrible screams. He hadn't made the long trip to see her in the hospital at Santa Ana since the rains had started.
Read Story
Pioneer Valley - Maryland Review
Manlius -Strictly Fiction II
bottom of page