The abandoned body got up and left the room. It was just in time to greet his wife and daughter, who were just coming in the front door.

My accordion's name is Sophia and she is from Italy. She was born in fairytale fashion, the way my life in Madrid can sometimes be. A great and nurturing friend gathered money from many friends in our village, to buy me an accordion for my birthday. It was…

Now your dreams are headed for the Rhyme or Reason Convention where they try to convince you you can do this Trying to make sense of everything

My dad was in a barber training school where they cut off the tip of a bum's ear and taped it back on with scotch tape

It's true, what they say, loveis the only thing thatmakes any sense. It isthe bravest thing anyof us will do. But it'simpossible, dangerous,stupid. I don't wantyou to trip into itsbeautiful trap withoutme. Like being swallowedby a fish, I'm told, yesactually I knowthere is…

When you finally arrive, when you are bounced from Bingo for calling out too many false Bingos, may the mothers be there to lift the children off your soul. May you see the fiery red word Psychic above the doorway underneath the green

…if something happened to you so horrible that you no longer felt like living, would it have been better if you had died at birth? Okay, that's probably too early. No reason to act in haste. Maybe you should die when you're eighteen years old, just before…

There’s an oak tree in Hanover, New Hampshire. Twenty years old, it is still a sapling. I imagine that one day the tree will have a commanding view of the Connecticut River and Norwich, Vermont, where my mom sat in bed, crying, watching everything unfol

When I was young I bowed with such forgotten politeness, a young salesman, enchanting, in the silken trades. But I remembered the sun also when it was in Hades, which had forgotten to set, or to rise. Peace, also, dangled there by the neck. Such a pre

Jillian speeds across the stone wall, the hem of her dress flaps violently behind her. Sometimes she stands with her back fully erect letting perpetual motion guide her down a bend with her sun blonde locks brightening the dreary sky, or she lurches her

Don't throw earth on bones.

when down the street/ a female cat/ yowls with the force/ of a red light blazing/ in an alley.

What if blood engorging your penis could be the result of emotions other than sex and violence? Wouldn't it be nice if your dick could be used to express the lengths and depths of other feelings?

Once again, I start the engine.

" History ...is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake."