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Her thirteen year old daughter had hung herself in the hallway closet of the old house. Now the closet was empty and unused. The door was locked.
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So she started sneaking into people’s houses in the middle of the night. She’d just sit in the kitchen for an hour or so, and just feel the peace. Never took anything or got into anything. Just sat there silently.
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She became a murderer
in all the stages of her life
she could not seem to succeed
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I had a moment of clear inter-species ideation...
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Your brother is not really blind.
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N-n-never screamscold a cat.
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When I wake up and look to my left, will you be there with me, snoring like an asthmatic bear?
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It was not my intent to be nosy. I just wanted to be the best neighbor I could be. Having never had anyone close growing up, I wanted to get involved and be a part of my community, such as it was. My only neigbhor was Edna Phelps. She was one…
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But now she was no longer the little girl.
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If you shoot at them now, it'll be attempted murder or, worse, premeditated murder.
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I. Sweet Anthill The anthill is in front of my house. It started with a cupcake I dropped on the ground, frosting first. The ants started to congregate, carrying sprinkles and cake crumbs into the deep sidewalk crack. A week…
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I infuriate myself with this gift.
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No, she hated the vain, overweight, pathetic, glass-of-merlot-a-day, SUV piloting, Carmen-cell-phone-ring-toned, housewives and consumer sluts that charged through the store like starving hyenas through the fallen, decaying, putrid, corpses of a plague-ri
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Eddie meets Sarah Packard, a “college girl” played by Piper Laurie. She walks with a limp, a fact Eddie doesn’t notice at first because she’s sitting down at a diner table in a bus station. She’s alcoholic and writes poetry.
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c'mon honey let's go get stoned
the night is falling
where did you say we were going?
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"I expect 50% of the agreed fee. In cash.” I dropped the envelope at the designated spot and parked up the street.
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Then I am wearing a brightly colored raincoat while sitting on a deck among hundreds of tiny glowing spores
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One of the poems in my collection, One Day Tells its Tale to Another, published December 16, 2012. Available on Amazon. My first book!
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George was the biggest coward alive. But he was too afraid to admit it. But that therein was his cowardice. He couldn't face the truth. He couldn't face his weakness. It made him uncomfortable, the thought that he might need to change.
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It Is Not Gravity Which Pulls Us Down Only these tired neglected gods still wander the floor of the universe, sifting joylessly through the detritus that lies there: the fragments of fallen planets grown so heavy with sadness they had lost the will to spin…
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A full moon in the morning sky, the sun hasn't bothered to rise and why should it, see how unnecessary it is, left over from a sleepless night, it stayed there, in suspense, waiting to see what you could possibly get up to next. A patron saint for lost ca
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The heart would have unnatural reverence, exalted, bursting with evil, rolling in sloth, if it did not at once reveal its innocence. I saw you again, on the morning of the sun. It was you, or your double, or a son you might have had. Your beautiful bloo
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They’ve thrown the painter in the trash upside down with his red pajamas and feet sticking up in the air, with his shoes on. The large red hand of judgement pointing at him, that gives us direction and law and shame, gives us a large red headache.
Whi
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"...if Rosie O'Donnell were to attach a horn to her forehead, she'd move up the ranks as the deadliest creature in the world."
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You’ll say you should have known. You’ll blame my music.
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In his fridge he had one piece of meat. He hadn’t been expecting me. I cooked it for him and watched him eat.
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D'ya have to be so rough?
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"...easier to get milk from a male tiger than mercy from him."
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Morning's first blush, their world in repose. Sated, drained, spent; …
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