“Aftermirth,” a Kindle Single

"I stopped being funny the day my wife was electrocuted by her underwire bra."

So begins "Aftermirth," a dark comedy that explores the absurdity of death through the eyes of 36-year-old comedian, writer, and actor Michael Larssen. What is horribly funny to the rest of the world is devastating to Michael, who loved his wife deeply, especially her captivating laughter. In the aftermath of her death, he loses his sense of humor, along with his career.

Then, after two years of mourning, Michael sees an article in the paper about a factory worker who was kneaded to death in a giant vat of dough. For reasons he doesn’t understand, he decides to go to the wake. There, he meets and bonds with the victim's daughter Elena, who is reeling from her father’s unexpected and preposterous death. A few months later, the two of them drive to North Carolina to speak with another survivor like themselves. The ensuing road trip is a blackly funny journey of healing that takes them deep into the heart of their grief and then beyond it.

“When Life Gives You a Pandemic, Make Anonymous Sex”

A piece by my co-editor Cheryl Tan and me about how and why ANONYMOUS SEX came together.

NYT Review of A Shout in the Ruins

Outside Magazine Essay: “My First Bear”

Essay: "For the Girls"

In 2018, McSweeney’s commissioned a series of essays by socially engaged writers who opposed Trump and his policies. It was called "One Small Blow Against Encroaching Totalitarianism,” and each essay offered one simple action, chosen by the author, that you could take to fight for our democratic values. Read my contribution here. Trump is gone—for now—but our democracy is still in jeopardy, and action is more important than ever.

Poem: "The Donald's Going"

In easy 2019, the editors of Scoundrel Time lit mag asked 22 writers to imagine how the Trump Administration would end. Read my contribution (which proved overly optimistic) here.

Poem: "Flamboyan"

My first published poem, written during my November 2015 residency at The Studios of Key West, in response to the gorgeous needle-painting of fellow artist-in-residence Cristiane Mohallem.

Flamboyan
(Royal Poinciana)

I always wanted to be that woman
That brazen hussy clothed in red
The color of a torch singer’s lips or a rooster’s wattle
Fecund, inflamed, unashamed
My trembling limbs spread wide
In rampant, ecstatic bloom
Defying you and your mortal fears
Beguiling you with my lazy sway
As I sing to you in a low, sweet glissando
I will rain my petals down
And make a lush scarlet bower for you
Will you lie in it
Will you roll in it, writhe in it
Will you live before you die?

"What's Wrong With This Question?"

A reporter gets too personal. View the piece on Huffington Post.