Category: Yo Ivanhoe

Most nights Hurley would sit up late, drinking, and would fall asleep looking for God. He heard leaves falling and trapped, swirling, in the alley out back. And then: the rattle of piss beneath his window and someone warbling a sad song. Some days he saw gulls, so many gulls, with no water anywhere around,…

No birds. No flowers. No bees. No moon. No water, moving or still. Nothing growing. Nothing stirring in the shadows. No history. No satisfying toil or contemplation of love. No memories. For no one. Dreams of leaving, I suppose. And the cold shoulder, sure. Or if interest, so fervent as to be suspect, if not…

    I’ll be honest with you, I don’t know what a dream is anymore. I got a lot of shit kicked out of me. Have you somehow made your peace with this world? I’m curious: without getting all religious or flaky on me, can you tell me how you did that? Once upon a…

I learned early that I’d never be the king of anything. I can for damn sure live with that the short time I have left. Nobody needs to tell me what I am, and I don’t have the time of day for a notion so foolish as who. Leave that horseshit to the pansies. I…

We shall find peace. We shall hear the angels. We shall see the sky sparkling with diamonds. –Chekhov, Uncle Vanya It’s all just history now, that still incomprehensible day six years ago, history buried under history, with more awful history heaped on top of it. It gets buried deeper all the time. Rubble and ruin…