Select Published Work
FICTION · The Stockholm Review of Literature, July 2015
"Stripped of his usual defenses, he was assailed by a projected echo of himself as perceived by the complex algorithms surfing his data wake. It was a ghostly thing, a staccato afterimage of past purchases and search history that confused his actual sense of self, miraculously altered by the treatment or otherwise." READ AT THE STOCKHOLM REVIEW >>
FICTION · Epiphany: A Literary Journal, Winter 2014
"There was also the conference table at which he sat, an oblong suspended lid the color of old plasticware. It seemed to share its size with the closed door of the room, which was heavy, dark, and had sealed sometime ago with a pneumatic gasp, as if hermetically. He could lie flat on the table, he imagined, and not dangle." READ ON >>
FICTION · Tahoma Literary Review, Summer 2014
"Some time before we met, Rebecca lived for a month in a primitive shelter in the pine barrens of New Jersey, learning to attune to her surroundings, learning to become, she says, uncivilized. She is a great believer in people experiencing places and situations where they are not comfortable. Displacement, she calls it." READ ON >>
ESSAY · National Parks Traveler, September 2013
"As a hiker there is sometimes nothing more beautiful than the lone windblown tree or burst of high alpine flowers thriving in those desolate, exposed reaches where we humans dare to visit, but not to linger for long." READ AT NATIONAL PARKS TRAVELER >>
FICTION · Pleiades: a Journal of New Writing, Winter 2013
"The screen goes black, text advancing in a retro computer font: They live their lives online, it reads. Jodi freezes in mid-motion, fingers splayed limply over her keyboard, eyes inhaling every detail of this brief preview for the upcoming show, their show, the show they are about to appear on for the first time." READ ON >>
FICTION · Metazen, February 2013
"Like all busboys, Transen and Jules subsisted largely on restaurant surplus, and were in fact now half-drunk on a florid mixture of leftover wine, but had that summer developed an unspoken ritual of saving their salvaged dinner rolls for the homeless." READ ON >>
ESSAY · KenWilber.com, July 2007
"Of all places, lying sprawled on the driveway and smoking a mint cigarette, the summer night air holding me to the earth, asphalt warm against my back, I suddenly became aware of the almost imperceptible rotation of the planet." READ ON >>
FICTION · Adbusters Magazine, 2004
"All your locks are languidly tensile, like the broken radio towers we saw hanging from the buildings in San Antonio after the fires started, when they were burning the last of the gas from the police cars and singing in the streets..." READ ON >>
"The reality in literature is not really the story you’re telling; it’s the way in which it’s told: the voice, the window, the perception. It comes down to almost a musical thing."
—Ben Okri
2011 Tin House Interview