"It's time to move the chair..."

Last Christmas Eve, my Nana shot my grandfather in the foot because he wouldn't stop boning the woman up the street.  So on Christmas Eve, after Nana drank a bunch of those baby-sized Miller Hi-life beers, she went upstairs, got her pistol, and said, “I'm gonna…

Gossip Betty Martini divorces husbands when they least expect it. On a seeming whim, she pays a visit to dear Arnold, who keeps her papers handy in his top desk drawer. She initials here and there, signs with a…

The young man is back again, solo,

The Street singer gathers up his coins and counts to a hundred before The last string stops vibrating

captured by his lens and plates/ before humidity and hydrocarbons/ smudge the crisp clean lines

feathered waves of tangerine peach

They meant no harm when they flooded farms in its swirls and eddies

Nobody looks for Gina between the hours of four and five. Her father is on swing shift for the rest of the summer; his two o'clock- dinner plates are soaking in a sinkful of scummy water. Her mother is fanning herself in the shade of the wisteria, most of her…

Also in development,/ the anatomically perfect robot/ pool boy and naughty maid,

A small poem

Male genitals were usually portrayed diminutively in classical art. After forty minutes in a drafty room without cloths on, I was beginning to understand why.

I murdered my inner child/ at 7 and neither denied/ nor confessed the act until now.

We die in order to get some rest

We can apprehend beauty only/ by framing it with the photographic/ paper’s edge or the novel’s margins/ and bookends.