Explore

Olav H. Hauge

The Wolf put on a great performance, crawling around on the stage.

He’s in the back of the cop car, hands in handcuffs, shaped like infinity.

Ring, ring, ring at 2 a.m. means meth’s got my brother in the slammer again.

Like an idiot, I was flattered at first to get honorary degrees.

A voice like my mother’s nail polish and my father’s lottery tickets.

How, like a dream, all the world’s characters are aspects of me.

They’re are all begging to be fed. Changed. Read to. Desperate for milk.

She’s young and lovely in a mad, disheveled way, and hard to resist.

An owl, as large and incongruous in the night sky as a flying man.

An owl, as large
and incongruous in the night sky as a flying man.

She was laughing. Something animal in me was sparked, and I chased her.

Edward the Funny didn’t have much to laugh about in his midthirties.

I’m on the verge of a breakdown. So I might as well have another child.

“You see,” Sister Elba said, smiling, “you should never doubt him.”

The thing that illuminated him might have been guilt or outright lust.

I have to wait till day to tell you that you’ve sunk down below sea level.

He took off his clothes and left them on the living room floor.

Just some wine, Ellie told herself. Just to prove she wasn’t chicken.

I take Saturday’s unpopulated trains, since there is no safety in numbers.

Here we were, seventeen, trapped by the sheer number of bodies.

Here is my father on the last day of his exceptionally long life.

I’ve made a rigorous effort. But it’s been hard, this hug embargo.

I bought the gun after my therapist said he wouldn’t have sex with me.

“Listen,” Mike said. “You’ve had a hard day. How about I drive you home?”

I want to be rapt around your linger, not Thumbelina under your dumb.

Writing at night just feels . . . sneaky. There’s an outlaw quality to it.

The illusion is so complete that it seems the world has been re-created.

People didn’t end marriages without warning, without second chances.