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BARCELONA CON AMORE

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The fog drifted in, wreathing the woman in undulate shadows as kleigs danced in wind and ships moaned. Souchet had come through the Barrio Chino to stand on the pier at the hour when dead cease their ramblings and sleep.…

Nell

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Was it hope or despair that drove her to walk out the door of the place she had called home for the past twenty years? Did she feel sorrow or relief to leave behind a husband and five children?

Worth a Thousand Words

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He was triply satisfied: he’d come twice and he was a damn good-looking man.

The Cracks Between My Keyboard Keys

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In exactly 100 words, I review the cracks between my keyboard keys.

Ceremony

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It was possible, she realized, to hope through hopelessness.

children

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Since I have never found any mention of children that you may have had in your writings, I've been a little reluctant to tell you this story. It may be a touchy subject for you...I don't know. It's a lot of conjecture on my part, but there's one indispu

A glimpse of death

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It all had to begin somewhere; some moment of time and space which arose in perfection- and dissolved into the now. It was a beginning he couldn't quite remember, couldn't grasp onto- it simply sifted through his fingers, sand floating away with the wind. That's not to say…

noise

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I am naked in an upright glass box with water running through my hair and over my skin. I am in there when the old man who invited himself into our house for six long months (because no one had the nerve to tell him to leave) opens a door and stands…

How Veetzers Set Us Up For the Zorks

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We're doomed as a species. The Zorks are coming to eat us. It all started when Joey Cacciatore, the dumbest crook in the history of the world, got Veetzers swarming like blowflies in 1972, and thereby ensured the upcoming…

The Clown Show

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Long nights on the road and into the ravines, wondering wordlessly how far they had traveled and where they were going, wondering and forgetting and consulting again the map, although they now travelled those forests beyond the forests on maps

Unclassifieds 1

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*Must have excellent communication skills and be able to talk pretty good.

Ode to Monday Morning Without You

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The soiled concrete sings to me a symphony. / I try to place my ear on it but a millipede / enters my brain and consumes it: /

I and a Friend Eat Burritos

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My friend and I were talking while having burritos (some days, it is as if all we ever eat are burritos, existentially speaking) and I was looking at the way he inserted that shaft of meat in his mouth and thought him prodigious for his technique

Be Prepared

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I thought I would beThe standing champagne glassunmarked and gleamingThe sleeping silverParalleling matesInert as ChinaBut I was the catasleep on the rug

Leda, After the Swan

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I do not jerk up to sirens birds doorbell shouts hello hello through the letterbox hello

THE BOX

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A Time for Beer

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He lives a simple life, the docks, an occasional woman of questionable morals and brewskis.

First sonnet

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Shit, I guess I'm gonna hafta

Simpler Disasters

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In the afternoon, there was a certain time when the sunlight spilled through the windows in the common room and made everything look all bright and fresh and optimistic. If you ignored the patients and doctors milling about and…

The Gatekeeper Of The Pathogens

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It was in his teeth. A blackness, a subscription to an outsideness, a painful contraction of burnt out trees scattered there among sand drifts and tidal debris. His face, lightly weathered and troubled, a tightness built into eyes of thought and separation. His arms, strong…

Deus Ex Mama

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Charlie is hollering about Rex again. Every dinosaur right now is Rex. Also Rex: every animal with thick-looking skin--elephants, crocodiles. (Yesterday, he pointed to an ant and told me, "Buggy Rex.")

Sick Day

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Marcy was not herself today, her mother said when the school called. She was under the weather and she could not play with the other children. Marcy's mother began to suspect that her daughter was not herself very early on that day. Walking up the stairs Dolores…

The Sound Of...

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What if Everything I have been doing Hasn’t been heard By anyone?

Cento In Prose and Poetry

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*A"Cento" which is a "patchwork poem" using the words of other writers. for V.W. …

Chu Berry, Tenor Wrapped in Swaddling

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They heard Chu’s voice, he was lying ten feet away, his skull opened up. “Find my change,” was all he was saying. “I left my change around, look for it."

Unreality Television

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I was told, take him round the back and deal with him.

Ten lines inspired by a lecherous man ...

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A hymn for her when his head cocks shameless.

Corvus

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Bracing himself against the wind, Zach gets to his feet without a thought for direction or destination. In the white forever of this place, there is no lantern to light the dark and bitter woods of memory. Even the croakers would find little use for such

Final Resting Place of The Pen

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Purchance to dream purchase ants to dream running Catalan sidewalk schoolyard fumble days berlin wall came tumbling down tumbling down tumbling down the mexico wall come tumbling down fuck you, Gorby. Head to radio, broadcast Hitler kill the generation di