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"On the podium at Pride, he owned that he'd loved taking his children to playgroup as he got to ogle all the breast-feeding mothers. "
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^ through a busted window in this desert…
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We reach for things and objects//
made of ever smaller things and objects
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at nightthe mannequins leave their glass prisons and hunt owls in the forest***sometimes they dance a slo-mo tarantella in a clearingbone-white …
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Time is the / gravy of the bloody roast beef of / emptiness.
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We bring words together and set them up on blind dates. Watch them build a history together, get married and fight together. Make offspring syllables cradled warm in cribs of punctuation. Phonemes squeezed into existence by two parenthesis. Words…
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I decided this time I’m going right to the end.
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One of Montejo's captains has us drilling in the rain again. The sun hasn't shone for days and the air is stifling, like trying to breath under water. Everything looks gray except the palms. Each green leaf droops in the rain like a…
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For weeks they used every medium to say: This day will be an end or a beginning.
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There was no one there, but the smell of cooked bacon permeated the hall, triggering borborygmus in his stomach. He loved that word, but not his empty stomach.
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your olive-pitting thumbs
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A short time ago, a man who lived near me got angry. He woke up one morning and torched his house, with his wife and stepdaughter still inside. He drove up I-35 to the Georgetown airport, got his plane, and flew it into the Echelon Building in Austin.
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The orchid trembled on its long stem
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Grand Dad was born in the time where men of honor were never too far when danger arose, like the phlegm and fevers of an oncoming plague.The oversized house felt stagnate and angry as he closed the heavy solid wooden front door behind him. There was an echo that made…
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I came down with polio on September 15, 1953, a mild, smoky day drawing close to autumn outside of Chicago — which also happened to be the exact date of my parents' twenty-first wedding anniversary. Only six months later the Salk vaccine was already b
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The white Styrofoam box sits on the prep station. It was delivered a few hours earlier. Half awake, I don a black apron and grab a large cutting board. To keep it from slipping, I put the cutting board on a damp towel laid…
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blackberry pie and huckleberry wine and litte Maria with her summerset bangs
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Something reached into Avi and took his voice, turning his volume to zero....
A short story of one day. A man going to work, a little magic, a car crash, and a wedding.
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When the house was sold the new owners walked in on what they believed was a former life stopped cold. There on the table remained a half-filled teacup and a well-read magazine lying open from years gone by. A Royal Doulton dish set lay half packed on the
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It was the first warm day of a late-arriving spring. Ben was sitting in his divorce lawyer’s office on Maiden Lane in lower Manhattan.
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Maybe tomorrow someone dreams
And maybe someone moans
But beware the steam inside the dome
It’s just dreams that sorrow owns
If it resonates, say so
Ho in a raccoon coat
Slow bum ahead
If it resonates, say so, say so
And her man, yo
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It's been like that of late. One bad beat after another. I used to hold all the cards, kick some ass, be rolling in it and buying the Crystal at Birdland for all my special ladies. Now I can't get in without a steep cover and my markers are no good in the
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After our first kiss,
a team of scientists
scrubbed away the cancer
of your lipstick.
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If girls have keys for fingers then locks cannot hold them.
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Oh, you can’t stay, your poetry/
Is still out in the world, maybe when you die/Your volumes will make their way/Not just here but
everywhere
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The world of jazz resembles the Elizabethan stage: bare, unadorned sets, little of what is performed is reduced to writing, no, or hardly any women.
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What I Love About HistoryMy roommate, Cara, wears all black, which she thinks scares me. I've never bothered to tell her I wore all black for two years, eighth and ninth grade, and I'm just over it, not that I think she's lame or passé, but there's nothing remotely…
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Well, Bainz' dad didn't kill us for stealing his bomb because one of the drug addicts at my house was a cop. At least he said he was a cop, or knew a cop, or had something to do with the cops. I don't know for sure. I know he didn't look like a cop, at least he …
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