She puts on long, droopy earrings and stares back at me in the mirror. Try these, she says, and hands me a pair of danglies. You have perfect ears, she says. Look, she says. Perfect. Look at your earlobe.
Vietnam, 1953: the last of the rain/ has settled. a rainbow/ begins to form as i/ go out to grab some/ groceries. the produce/ man smiles and waves/ as i head home./ metal against wood./ burning embers./ boiling broth./ and just like that:/ dinner is served.
It is written that she who does not work shall not eat. Unavoidable as a law of nature, I propose that the inverse is also true; she who eats must wash her dishes. In the course of my (admittedly short) …
The truth of any good tale is the thing that makes it art. Without truth, art’s power to change the way we see things fails in the hands of the artists and remains, then, merely words on a page.
