“What’s this? What’s this? What’s this?” said Pablo moving from canvas to canvas. He was stunned.

He met her at midnight just off the plane and they sized each other with silent growing awareness that no matter what might transpire in distant tomorrows, each served here now as passports to magic and lands far away. On the…

The other night at work, some kid was in for swallowing a snail's shell. He was nine and, according to the computer, did not have cognitive insufficiency. That last bit was probably put there to make us all not feel guilty about laughing at him.

I'd been sleeping on a couch. It was the couch of another artist, a friend, the kind of friend who makes you want to think in star patterns that dance across galaxies and warm distant life forms that are impossible to see. This friend made me feel more like…

A man stood on the beach, looking out over the ocean. He watched his son practicing turns in his sailboat, and pushed his feet Under the warm sand. Above him someone flew a silent helicopter. "That's my son," the man was screaming even though there was no…

I A sparklerman zig-zagged across the skies, re-arranging stars in its path. How bright his stick-like and jaggy limbs twinkle, I noticed; even noticing my surprise. No longer 'simply sitting', I was. 'It is time' I mumbled. The room was melting, si

"One-upmanship" is a strategy for defeating an opponent somewhat unfairly without actually cheating.

When he suggested to her that they make a sex tape, because that’s what everyone was doing, she wasn’t really surprised. And there was a truly repugnant part of it that fit in with her desire for moral self-flagellation.

A decade, at minimum, was how long their notes had transpired.Still, they all knew how it would end.

I drove around the city that evening, beyond lonely. What was I to do? My friends were gone! I hit the nearest bar and ordered myself a strong drink of concentrated Oros. The barman was a tad gobsmacked, but he saw the dismay in my eyes. After filling him

We’re on the phone dead battery & I want this to last forever. The last thing I want to do is make decisions.

... threads are nasty things / That snag and pull and tear the cloth / And will not let me be.

Tadd Dameron once described himself as “the most misplaced musician in the business,” and one needn’t call the missing persons bureau to determine that he may have been right.

As Mayumi ran toward the battle, she watched helicopters over the giant centipede explode and rain down on the street below. Lightning bolts, fireballs, and water balls that burst into rain, littered the skies.

Was Sligo an unfeeling privacy-violator or an uncannily-feeling empath, privy to the deepest longings of those whose lives he came in contact with? [...] Sligo's grave is as silent as these pages ultimately would be if they were left unread.