Six Very Short Stories
When Nietzsche Met Quantum Physics Met Galileo
The abyss stares. But the position of its eyes are undecided, indeterminately quivering, until you stare–stare back.
And yet it moves.
I gave birth to it, whatever it was: unspeakable monster.
"There," I said, and, as I passed the bundle over to my mother, I dared her; with my burning eyes, I dared her to say it:
That the details mattered.
In Enthusiastic Answer to a Question that No One Was Asking
When I was in Japan…
A picture of my genitals? Yes, I can send you a picture of my genitals!
In my first book…
Perhaps I cannot hold a candle to you. But I can set you on fire.
Roaches. And Hedgehogs.
"Narwhals don't belong in space," I said angrily. "Just–"
...Just Start Salivating.
Across countries, across time, they began their duet: Donne with his parchment, Pavlov with his dogs.
A hybrid verse, and they chimed it together, one voice, one song: "Do not ask for whom the bell tolls...Do not ask..."
We listened, beautiful: Ding, ding, ding; absolute in our focus.
We listened open mouthed.