(this is an old post I’m replaying, because I want to…) My spiritual advisor taught me how to communicate with trees. After my first attempt didn’t go well, I confronted her. That tree you sent me to told me to get lost. She gave me a look of disdain. What did you say to upset … Continue reading
A used tissue occupied the middle of the five seats at the back of the bus, crumpled and sticky white against the blue fabric. I chose a seat next to the window, leaving an empty seat between me and the nasal debris. At the next stop an elderly man entered and chose the seat next … Continue reading
(two Buddha heads observing an abandoned Borders) A memoirist, currently being celebrated as a literary sensation, recently stated, “What’s the point,” after being asked about fiction, as if it were pointless to bother with a made up story when you could focus on the real thing, as if his life, or the self, was all … Continue reading
This is an old story. Originally it was a flash fiction piece before being slightly expanded. I had fun with the language but it doesn’t fit in with where I am at currently, so I’m publishing it here since I’m not trying to do so elsewhere. Knowing the air around Joe had always been contaminated, … Continue reading
When I struggle to write, I begin to doubt my intelligence; when the writing goes well – even when a story feels complete – I question its quality because it came from me. I doubt I’ll ever put the past behind me, not completely, or that I’ll ever be satisfied with where I am at. … Continue reading
Hopefully one of these days this lone publication won’t be so lonely. http://www.epiphmag.com/fictionepiphanymagazineissue7.html#hill Continue reading
james keeney hill 