I have a new fiction on Willows Wept Review.
It’s about crows. I love crows. I want to be a crow. I want to eat popcorn off the mall parking lots of everyone’s mind.
Willows Wept Review publishes work “…that explore, celebrate, and/or problematize the relationship between human beings and the natural world.”
This is something I am into–the natural world, the unnatural world, its juxtaposition. I love nothing more than photos of shopping carts in elbows of a lake alongside a Florida highway.
Here’s an excerpt from “Crow: 9 Permutations.”
Crow awakes! Crow gnashes. Crow snaps shut. Rocks back. Feels claustrophobic. Totters into the clouds. “I want to be sent home right away,” says Crow. “I want diet Lowenbrau vitamin soda. I want inner beauty and my own magazine. And to be always backlit. I want to sleep now. To stop this dizzy flight. To safely perch. To lay my head in a lap like a child.”
(alarm, assembly, distress)
I think my brother is becoming addicted to lorcet. I want to interview him.
As a writer, you should use three exclamation marks YOUR ENTIRE LIFE. So I have two left now.
I like the first day of snow all making me giddy and kid-like and maybe something bubbling up inside nearby my spleen, simmering along rind of liver, stomach juice milkshake, I love it, and the way the snowfall forms lumps, erases angles, softens the harshness of so many jig-jag-zags. But then later the snow sucks, hard.
I saw Wicked in Chicago. It was mostly Wicked, but I was a little drunk.
Crows exploit relationships for social gain.
The best year in high school was when I dated a member of the “dance team,” one hierarchal bump above even the cheerleaders. Suddenly 14 new people would talk to me. I even had a new table at the cafeteria and was invited to a party with big hair and big cars and somebody rode a moped off a roof.
Crows exhibit “showy behavior.”
I once wore arterial red Vans to school for a month straight.
Crow parents and their offspring only associate with one another for a few months.
I decided after college to never ask my parents for a single cent.
Crows will often sing to reduce hostilities.
The way we solve all of this is to actually make a crow out of shopping carts.