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If you want to be a writer, just write stuff.
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We’re on our way out, my brother and me, to the graveyard.
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Look, “Wolfie,” (or “Pharaoh,” or whatever your name is now) a little too much information, don’t you think? I don’t need to hear all the details about you and Sharon. It’s my life, and I’ll cry if I want to – to alter the song just a
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i thirst always
for that poetic mouthful
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When the arguing started, their voices would get louder and louder, till they broke into my dreams. That night, I woke and listened in the dark for what felt like a very long time. Perhaps I should have been afraid, but I wasn't. For one thing, they never
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They made posters and hung them everywhere. With the passing days she became the photograph at its center: hair always in the same ponytail; always with the same smile
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My mother moved her things out of my parents’ bedroom into the attic guest room. When I asked where guests would sleep, my father said, “Matthew, don’t be an asshole.”
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My father was dating already. Her name was Shelly. She had a man-like body, buck teeth and red hair, a big forehead. I don't know what bog she climbed out of. She wanted to fill in for my mother, but I locked her out of my room. I just wanted to be sad and hold…
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For a person you don't know, a stranger with a lot of place, you think much of him.
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Too often, Calvin's willful head finds its way into his hands.
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We were offered mannequins that had pubic hair that grew and swirled, and could visit like a pet, and sit in your lap
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Mum and Dad are dead, though I'm the only person who has noticed. They're sipping their tea in the kitchen. Dad keeps coughing up maggots. Mum's face looks like a cracked mirror: I see myself in it, broken, dark. My brothers carry on as normal. They huddle by the TV,…
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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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