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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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142010
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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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sometimes we saw it in the sky. we'd stand on invisible stairs trying to reach it. running like frightened geese. we were going to catch up with it. grab onto its string. pull it down.
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"If you don't like it then leave!" Sally screamed.
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Down the concrete stairs I slinked, past some fur coat wearing tosser and his braying equine girlthing, and pushed my way into the eardrum puncturing furnace of the place.
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To The Graduates Of The Class Of 2010:
You are here today at a critical crossroads of your life. For most of your 22 years you’ve been taught to work hard, obey the rules, listen with respect to your elders and to trust that every effort you make wil
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"...a head dizzy from my abuse."
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Uber Rich
Spongecake
Caca Mimi and the Autre Merdes
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By: Roz Warren (and Janet Golden)I'm a humor writer. My work appears in publications from The Funny Times to The New York Times. Janet is a history professor whose writing was confined to academic journals and the occasional op-ed. Driving back from the Jersey shore one…
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He was prepared for this event.
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The lock came off easy—they only screwed a hinged hasp on the outside—it took a hard shove to get past a chair barricading the door. As I pushed my way in I heard a screeching crash. Lucky nobody was around. It was my first time bidding on a sheriff's sale…
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Now Ninalee gets up from the table. She starts to put some snacks in a bag for Janny and Benjie, and some storybooks in there too, to read to them in the park: books about trains, mostly, and there’s one with a bus and one with a car...
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I like him. I really, really like him in a way that I don’t like guys, not anymore, not after all the dirty lies into get in my pants, the dirtier lies to get out of them later, the indignities and the humiliations and the disappointments.
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From my office window, I watch the trains roll in and out of the city. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of passengers staring out windows as the train slows, the ones who have another destination. I've been on those trains before, ones that took me far away from all that…
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Michael shifted impatiently as his mom steadied the gyrocycle above the parking space. A rather blank, empty smile came over her face, and Michael understood. The Proctors were everywhere and where they weren’t, there was always a Neighbor who would be h
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