The Swimming Pool Metaphor

When I was fourteen years old, I discovered that swimming pools are a metaphor for love. The source of my discovery was Macdonald Hall: Go Jump in the Pool! by Canadian writer Gordon Korman. In a story about boarding schools and friendship and refusing to let go, the...

Homework ‘Til Your Dying Day

The thing about writing is you’re never over it. Never satisfied. Never finished. You’re always in search of the perfect word, sentence, paragraph, page, manuscript, and then the next idea and the one after that. You are ravenous, scavenging every situation for a...

Empty Spaces

When I woke up, the terrace floorboards were green. Some sort of moss. It looked intensely surreal. Thinking I was dreaming, I went back to sleep. A few hours later it had rained, and the green vanished. I pondered if it had been there to begin with, or just in my...

Mr. Kevin

I reach the top of Hawthorne Avenue at 4:30 pm. Another Thursday. Three minutes to gather myself and go through my breathing exercise—deep nasal inhalation, a count to five, and slow release. No more than three minutes, not enough time to attract the attention of...

fish eyes

i This is not the first time; it won’t be the last. It’s a sort of catharsis. I pick apart a dead fish with my bare hands, leftovers from dinner at my parents’ house. I’m vegetarian, but they’d forgotten again and given me the cod I hadn’t touched at dinner in a clear...

CYNICISM 2.0

Just as I was thinking I’d become   a gollum,   slinking over slick stones   in the dank dark of a cavern   deep beneath the rays   of youth’s naivety;   just as I was thinking I’ve been decked   in total shadow long enough   that even moonlight might   make red...