Reading at the Loudest Voice

"City of Sand," Notre Dame Review, Summer 2009

"Season for Migration," Connecticut Review, Spring 2009

"Cowboys of My Heart: The Six-DVD Boxset," Kenyon Review, May 2009

Prose Published in 2008

Short Stories:
"Change Gonna Come," Fringe Magazine, Issue #13, January 2008


"Nimble Calligraphy," Stand Magazine, 8(4)















Creative Non-Fiction:
"Piano Lesson," South Loop Review, Vol. 10, 2008

Prose Published in 2007

Short Stories:
“Lost in My Writing," Writer Advice, January-February 2007
"Golden State," SoMa Literary Review, January 2007




















"City Lunch," 3:am Magazine, January 2007




















"One Love," Ink Collective, Vol. 4, 2007

Novel Chapters:
"The Space Between Brooklyn + Manhattan," Word Riot, July 2007




















Creative Non-Fiction:
"Stripped Down," Pology Magazine, October 2007

Prose Published in 2006

Short Stories:
"The Blind Date," The Bend, Issue #3, 2006
"Lost," Right Hand Pointing, Fiction Issue #12, 2006















"Everyday Corporate America," BlazeVOX, Spring 2006


















"The Gift of Space," Denver Syntax, Issue #9, 2006


















Novel Chapters:
"Delilah in Collision, " Pittsburgh Quarterly, Spring 2006

Prose Published in 1997

Creative Non-Fiction:
“Cynicism: the Consumer Drug of Choice," The Voice, Spring 1997

Prose Published in 1993

Short Stories:
“Larghetto Agitato” in Cadence, Spring 1993

The Blind Date

As if motherfuckas. This isn't the story. But maybe I'll start a new one with this paragraph. Stay tuned:

I think my date was really hot. But I can't say for sure. I can't see a thing. Born that way. Been wearing a pair of Ray Ban Aviators since I was in grade school. And I don't have redeeming qualities like Stevie Wonder or Ray Charles did: musically gifted, huge dicks, lots of soul. The only thing I got going for me is sarcasm. And that's how I get women to stay. Like my blind date tonight. I hated the double entendre, by the way: a blind guy going out on a blind date. That's fucking ridiculous. Distasteful really. But that's how she rolls. Anyway, when I first met my blind date, she was very polite. Polite as in, let me create as much space as I can with this guy so I won't have to hurt his feelings when I get the fuck out of this restaurant after three forkfuls of lemon pie. But then I threw out some sarcasm, a little bit of edge, and suddenly she was rubbing her leg against mine. She was totally loving it. As I listened I realized she had a voice that could make the Hershey kisses in your pocket melt. Before you knew it, your pockets would have shit stains on them. But you don't mind, as long as she uses your belt as a jocket whipe inside the Ladies Room. . .