August 18, 2022 | Nonfiction
Golden Light
Kent Kosack
A river coursing with so much life it broke through the surface. I liked that.
Posts by Kent Kosack
June 1, 2020 | Fiction
Kulshi Bekhir
Kent Kosack
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, turning to the man in the seat beside me. Though he didn’t appear to speak English, he intuited my rejection. Loneliness, like love, is an international language.
March 17, 2020 |
Full House
Kent Kosack
In jazz, woodshedding refers to the shed you sequester yourself in, as a young musician learning the craft, a private space to develop your own style, away from prying eyes or critical ears.
October 22, 2019 |
Jokermen
Kent Kosack
The song on repeat, singing to Scout, for some reason stranded, standing on the patio table, dead-center, like a reanimated roast, and my father, drunk and shirtless, passed out in a pile of mulch in the yard.
June 3, 2019 | Fiction
Make and Model
Kent Kosack
He tells them, pays for the burgers and, as they drive to the mall, as if to encourage them, a general addressing his troops, he tells them about fights with broken bottles, about fighting the black kids because he was white, the Italian and Polish kids because he was Jewish, the rich kids because he was poor.
May 6, 2019 | Nonfiction
Moriches
Kent Kosack
I’ve been tasked with digitizing my father’s slides, a hundred or so he inherited from his aunt.
