if Daniel Gilber it Right, Then You Are All Wrong
The Day after his Birthday
I Carried the Bird By its Small Black Feet
In the Arena
A Blind, Empty, Crumbling Apartment
At six-thirty, the women and girls arrive.
They Have Closed the Museums
My Life as a Refrigerator
The family we were working for had a son
The voice in my head said "Don't listen to me!"
My Father Called Me and We Disappeared