“So I started collecting baseball cards.”
WHEN ONE MORNING I WOKE UP MISSING JOEY CARUSO, THE BEST SECONDBASEMAN I EVER PLAYED WITH. I COULDN’T SHAKE IT OFF, THIS MISSING. SO I WROTE THIS POEM
It means nothing now but it meant enough then, enough to change a life, to alter the smooth rhythmic turning of the world.
April 28, 2017 | BASEBALL, Nonfiction
What can be said about this game that hasn’t already been said about Christmas morning? Better than that. The first day of a summer break. Better than that. Evening fireworks on the 4th of July. That, too. Better than all. A graduation, an engagement, a marriage, a festival, a celebration. An outdoor fete to anything.
A novel about the complexities of being a woman, an artist, a mother, and a wife; a novel about persona and obsession and loyalty and repression; an exorcism.
A fictional follow-up to the novella Women (SF/LD, 2014) exploring the ethos of the literary world, queerness, and infatuation.