Cracked
Overnight, something happens between the two hemispheres of my brain: a tiff, a quarrel, an all-out brawl. The universe unravels in my hands; its spiral...
Rearview Mirror
Crossing the neutral ground through the tunnel, or one of the bridges, is like holding one's breath. Time seems to stop. Space does not exist. The matter of...
My Father at the Mountainside
A whole Saturday I walked back and forth across our slick garage floor to hear those magnificent heels clop. I mouthed the word gambol over and over, mouthed...
Grieving
She wrapped my little hand inside her long, thick fingers and guided me up the aisle toward a line of crying women. When it came my turn to walk up, I...
Why nonfiction?
You’ve probably noticed that Phoebe is taking a big step: We’re now accepting nonfiction submissions.
That’s the...
Before Fairbanks, Alaska
Home's a shed and wood-pile. Home is bones. It might travel with you, if you ask it to, but you rarely ever ask it to. Home is a dog you love because...
Smoke Signals
An exhale – an O let out, then another white ringlet, then others leaving the dark of your mouth, each a loop in front of you, growing increasingly...