Dream

My dreams, the ones I remember, typically are narratives related t o my work, so my dream last night was unusual in that it had nothing to do with anything I'm working on. I dreamed my old friend Marilyn Krysl and I were out and about, doing what it's not clear, except that we were talking and talking, like in the old days, and I seemed to be doing most of it, and I finally got around to telling her how fucking good her stories are, and I managed to embarrass the hell out of her. It really was very sweet.

We met at a writers conference in Boulder early in our careers, discovered we both lived in Eugene, and became fast friends. Later, when she went to the University of Colorado, where she had a long distinguished teaching career, we began an energetic exchange of letters that went on for years.

If you don't know her work, shame on you, you need to go grab a collection of her stories right now. She may be best known as a poet but its her stories that stand out to me. She's found a voice filled with biting political wit that is quite her own. Her stories are first rate.

Mozart, Westmoreland, and Me

Dinner with Osama (ND Sullivan Prize Short Fiction)

Marilyn Krysl Home Page