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******WARNING: Long-ass story****** Click at your own risk.
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13131612
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Millicent asked me to stop over at her place for coffee after work because we needed to talk. While pouring, she said she was torn about telling me what her father used to do to her when her mom was not around, but she thought I needed to know how twisted her life was…
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21151614
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The psychiatrist was a man who clearly meant to calm his patients, the students. You could tell by his sweater and his neatly combed, plumy hair and the wire-rim glasses he wore. But he was not good at his job. You could tell this by how bad he was at cal
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885168
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a boy with a gun, a skateboard, and spray-paint
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2773168
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The possibility for numerous outcomes – the possibility of anything, really – lives on the writer’s page.
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1746167
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The sun is going to slice your goddamn face open.
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Somewhere along tomorrow, I will forget I have the right to do this.
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Shadows are so admirable in film noir
less so on x-rays and mammograms
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15501613
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Our beautiful currencies and stamps/
disappear into the digital vortex/
of accelerated appetites.
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Snow sheeted on the river...
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26871615
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1391168
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The Muse//has used/ me up
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19101611
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Once a student brought him a jar of black widow spiders. Tony put it on his desk. Somehow the jar got tipped over, and the spiders got out.
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Their nouns are few and stark./
Ours are numerous and dappled/
or subtly shaded and shadowed/
by circumstance and possibility.
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The dancer was a little chubby, but I didn't mind. It gave her more to shake.
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She’s witnessed her mother’s terror on the day of the hurricane, and she demanded for the first time in her life that her mother do something her mother did not want to do.
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He disliked intrusion and very specifically innocuous intrusion, nice guys, one might say, who tried to be near him to learn something from him or who admired him but who, as in that passage, came merely to disturb his work.
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On Monday, May 7, 2018, at the age of 67, I had a stroke.
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He was losing his fight with
malaria, but you would never
know it from his dreams
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The Bond Trader begins his morning with coffee and a hit of LSD.
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They are all sleeping, but I know better. I will keep watch and if he comes tonight I will be alert and ready. When he arrives he'll see the slack mouths, the graceless sprawls, hear the grunts, snorts and snores of the other women and then he'll sense me. My eyes will…
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This is self-reflection or self-reflexive writing. Candor but not verse. That is what I write: not-verse. On occasion I write a poem though rarely an occasional poem. Instead of calling it non-fiction we could call it non-verse.
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A man and his wife are walking through a museum when the man sees a shield on the wall. Look at that! he says. Isn’t that remarkable?
The two of them walk a little closer.
What’s so remarkable about it? says his wife.
Well, the workmanship! s
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If this was the day when the bribes of whiskey and US dollars would fail to work. If on this day a black bag, smelling of shit and fear, would be pulled over his head – the bloodied roots of a knocked out tooth tickling his neck.
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22011612
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Night's air awhirl, the sky shoots fireflies.
Sometimes, she bleeds black arrows in her dreams.
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It was oddly quiet, and the air had a strangely urgent quality. The sun came out, and water on the leaves and branches turned oaks and aspens into Christmas trees.
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Yet it was another thing to grow to become indispensable to someone without whose infirmities the helper could not exist. People in general had started to call that helpless requiring “codependency,” but to Althea that word did no good,
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