Like the pirates and revolutionaries of legend, heads spiked atop the great bridge spanning the great city, I am now a head without a body. Maybe the body ran away while I was sleeping, slamming headless into walls and doors. Maybe my body...
Barry was six-foot-six, fifteen like me, floating layups and hook shots over our heads through the hoop in my driveway. We called him Big Bird for dwarfing us, for his slappy feet, for the mouth that hung in a grin at all
My father spoke: Look at this, he said to me. We were walking through an alley from somewhere to somewhere else in Brooklyn. In front of us, a man with white hair and a white beard reached into a dumpster, plucked out a bag of potato chips...
chicken breast soaked in vanilla, aluminum foil and leather doused in WD-40, one day on a pack of green apple bubble gum. lured a large swirl around a grapevine, lead to a plastic bag
I was sitting at a banquet table before the awards ceremony. A distinguished character actor, who narrated the PBS documentary I saw last night, entered the banquet hall in a white jacket.
the belief was eels were male catfish, believe if you leave a fried one alone return to red-raw meat, or a trickle trail of blood and crumb, a resurrection
