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fragments |
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of an intended life |
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Fragments
is a novella in progress…. It’s a series of intertwined vignettes on love and loss
– and the debt life owes to art.
Stylistically, Fragments intends to fuse the precision of
poetry, the tranquility of prose, the motion of cinematography, and the held
moment of a still photograph.
Emotionally, Fragments is something else entirely, evoking a sense of
restlessness... a young woman's transgression between worlds. The first chapter, “Intersection,” is below; several other
chapters are also online (and can be read through grey links in the “Table of
Contents”). Additional excerpts
will posted gradually through the Summer and Fall of 2009. I intend to self-publish the novella (unless a more formal
publishing arrangement can be found) in late 2009 or early 2010. If you would like to be notified of
its release, please e-mail me. |
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Table of Contents Updated
April 19, 2009 Subject to Change 1.
Intersection 2.
Sublimation 3.
Hanlan’s Point 4.
Magnolias 6.
Entrainment 7.
A Maimed Soccer Ball 8.
“Writing Down the Bones” 9.
“From Adam’s Rib” 10.
Carpal, Flange 11.
Ilium, Pubis, Ischium 12.
Three Days After the Red Carnations 13.
The Pier at Dusk 14.
“Wake Me Before You Go” 15.
A Deck Designed by Aleister Crowley 16.
Divination 17.
Presage 18.
Brighton Beach 19.
Tenderness 20.
The Sense of our Sex 21.
“Chelsea Hotel” 23.
Then 24.
Like a 1950’s Sitcom 25.
“Love with Razor Blades” 26.
Eggshells 27.
Percussion 28.
Evening 29.
Suzanne 30.
“You Know I Will” 31.
Atheistic Jews for Jesus 32.
Under the Bridge 33.
Exhale / Rant 34.
Fragments, Embers, Embryo 35.
Embargo 36.
Anonymous 37.
“A Case of You” 38.
The Pier at Dawn 39.
Eight Flights 40.
“Step off the Roof” 41.
Dominance 42.
Submission 43.
“Love Will Come to You” 44.
The Reservoir 45.
Our Inconvenient Truth 46.
“how fortunate are you and i, whose home is
timelessness: we who have
wandered down from fragrant mountains of eternal now.” 47.
Diagnosis 48.
/ … --- … / 49.
Breaking 50.
“It’s Lonely.
Come Home.” 51.
Regrets 52.
“Please Come to Boston” 53.
“The Quick Brown Fox Jumps Over the Lazy Dog” 54.
“Lost in
Translation” 55.
Like Fonteyn 56.
“Diamonds and Rust” 57.
Tire Treads like Footsteps 58.
In Honour of their Wedding Vows 59.
May Day 60.
“Bizarre Love Triangle” 61.
A Decade has Passed; I Imagine 3,650 Hatch Marks on my
Bathroom Wall (Without
Accounting for Leap Years) |
Chapter 1: Intersection We sit at the
round table in the intimate windowed alcove, our faces warmed by steam rising
from bowls of pho, laughing… glancing out at our bicycles, chained and
propped against the diner wall. Outside: a man
sleeps, back propped against the bike rack, legs wedged between a parked
Lexus and an SUV. Inside: we
flirt with politics; you cough, self-conscious, when chili oil catches your
throat. The broth begins
to cool. The sleeping man stirs
then settles, neck bent awkwardly. You rest your
chopsticks on the table, push aside the plate with lime rinds and straggling
bean sprouts, and cup my nervous hands in yours. Again he stirs,
chapped fingers in the pocket of his threadbare coat, searching, preparing:
blackened spoon, bag of white crystals, rubber hose, lighter, syringe. The petite
waitress with her tenuous English brings the check. Politely, we both reach for it. I struggle to
avert my eyes as the white rocks melt on his spoon and he sinks the syringe
in his vein. We unchain our
bikes as he staggers off, screaming his hatred for “Jews, fags, and the
government.” You insist on
escorting me home, so we ride together across the bridge, skirting decrepit
projects on the Lower East Side, weaving between Chinatown and Little Italy,
then heading West, toward the Village and the waterfront, past industrial
sites and factories locked down for the night. We stand at the
door of my loft. Our heat
radiates. We kiss goodbye, cilantro on our lips. A Note on
Inspiration Since we’ve seen each other, a game goes on. Secretly I move, and you respond. You’re winning; you think it’s funny. But look up from the board now… look how I’ve
brought in furniture to this invisible place, so we can live here. —Rumi (excerpt from
Poem 1245) |
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