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Steve Bancroft’s future wife showed up at his door that same night, slamming her hand loudly against the door and shouting for him. “Steve, Steve, wake up. Damn it, come on. You forgot to pick me up at the airport. Who are you in there with? I said wa
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The morning news.
The birthday present you bought me.
This poem.
My hair when I wake up in the morning, at any given point in the day.
Pigeon pose.
My singing voice.
How much I love myself.
Coffee.
Sex.
Not having sex.
Having movie star sex.
Ha
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When we started plans for the party, none of us wanted Larry to die, most of all Larry himself.
Actually, when we first started plans for the party, Larry wasn’t dying.
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we all die from the bottom up
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Love needs loathing like cold weather needs warm clothing. And all truths, untruths and part truths need a place to live when a mind gets too sardine-packed with information and cynicism...
Some say there was a time when the light was brighter, the ear
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I lie on the floor of the hut and for some reason I start to think about the Harvest Days carnival and that game where you have to toss a dime in a dish to win a stuffed animal. Next thing you know I’m a little tiny guy in there in that world of plates
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Forever
Implies
To my recycled soul
That it is achievable
If only I stretch myself
Towards it
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I had coffee with one of my characters today. It did not go well. I thought we were friends, but I guess I was wrong.
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"So, how did you know my name?"
"I read memories." i said
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The Divine and merciful Understanding Calls out to me But let me not speak its name. You are an unworthy hearer And I am a secret-keeper, cunning With keen thoughts and prayers of swift Justice Single is our thought and act And when we pray we know not what it…
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We may sniff a gush of something
in the rush of heat round a petrol bomb.
Or reap a gift from the
cracked head of a hero.
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the arc of her invective presumably aimed at the little boy and girl ambling halfway down the block behind her
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It was a mildly windy day of the working week in the financial district of the city—the bright morning sun was out—when a security guard was called to the fifteenth floor to deal with a disruption.
“This way.”
Someone pointed to a desk. At the desk
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I’m crouched behind my apartment window, practically going crazy.
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Sleep left him like a fragmenting illusion. Suddenly, he was awake, like something pressing but fleeting had awoken him. Once awake, though, all he had was silence and stillness. His pulse quickened, his…
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My only celebrity anecdote involves seeing Barbara Bush in the back of the Presidential limo ...
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I. The girl within the sleeping woman dreams her dream of ending. To her comes the cowgirl with no kids: she's riding high atop her turquoise horse, steady by its braided mane. Silver pistols holstered. The girl in the woman in the dream she's dreaming…
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Wile E. Coyote? A junkie strung out on bunk dope.
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no matter how many drunks I spoke to, no matter how many strangers I tried my new theories on, no matter how many of my, currently distant friends I out-witted and educated with my revelatory nuggets of wisdom, I still see no sign of impact on the evening
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I don't know when it was I first stumbled across your blog. I know I definitely must've followed the link on your twitter profile, but how I found you in the first place, I have no idea. But fate works in mysterious ways, I suppose. I remember I then visited your blog every…
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One must learn to give the Bull the things/
it needs: space, grass and grain, his mates/
and offspring, and elude the things/
its momentary fury wants- your death
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how many lighted days remain
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When people talk about the end moments when one's life flashes before his or her eyes, they often refer to time as slowing down. I can attest to this phenomenon during my final moments, before the collision: the song playing on the radio, the squeal of tires and flash of…
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Let's be honest. Ugly people have an uphill battle in this culture. From the time they slide out of their ugly mothers they stand at the plate with two strikes.
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The secret government may run her like a pellet through birdshot fire at anyone where everyone is a bread basket or hooligan. He was in prison because he owned a gun then sold it.
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And the promises of promises
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In his dreams, he swam in piles of pills. Sometimes the piles were infinite, other times the were contained, tonight the pills were intense shiny reds, chalky yellows, deep blues and matte purples and swirled around in a children's inflatable castle. Derek swam happily,…
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Lately, instead of the images of dreams waking me up, as has always been the case, it is sounds that jolt me awake. The thumps and roars and slithering of creatures unseen. The ghosts that slam cupboards shut. The apparitions of robbers breaking down the front door:…
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It's saying, "It feels as if you've given me your old, your tired and your poor. I feel much older than the years you've logged."
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