Most discussed stories

Solzhenitsyn Jukebox

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A retired feminist literary agent named Jackie and her boyfriend, Jock, were on board. Jock was kind as one might expect of a man traveling with a feminist, and Jackie was happy yet stern. She mentored me one day over lunch.

All there is

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You need buttered broths and to copy old writings by hand by very poor light.

Fossil Beach

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hiking to Fossil Beach

In Real Time

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We are the same shits/ we were in the Bronze Age

Damn Sure Right

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The man had come up behind me and locked my arms backwards. I could feel his cock or gun against my low back. He told me if I moved he'd hurt me and he said did I know what that meant? I did know, however I was watching from…

The Days of The Olde Burying Yard

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“Phennias Jessup is his name. That’s his death’s head scroll, an hourglass, bats, spirals and angel’s wings on either side of the top part of the stone. "

You Don't Take Names

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You want to know what happened to him and your curiosity is a cat pawing at the edges of your impatience as you roam aggressively around your old haunts.

The Elvis Latte

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Elvis at a Starbucks. Some graphic words.

I Married a Werewolf

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It really makes you wonder what else you don't know.

Misunderstood

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Leonard didn't know that cute girl well, hardly at all, but he really wanted to. She was his first real crush in Junior High. He got his chance and talked to her some one day while they were walking down the hall between classes. She actually spoke to him first. The bell…

Anniversary Waltz

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He hiked the hills of her condition She biked the path of his delight

Mind-Body Split

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The mirror can never talk back/ unless corrupted creases of the brain/ and its recombinant physical maladies// elect to answer...

Poets Who Thrum

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Poets who thrum jirble and thwack Poets who thrum eat quorn with raw swamms Poets who thrum are eristic (not shambolic) Poets who thrum deliciate unto kench when they freck

Accuracy

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The form I completed yesterday filled out several attachments, including one for passive business loss. I did not believe I had incurred business loss, just that I was freelancing part-time.

I fall out of love, learn not to worry, and get ready to embrace the foreign war...

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Love hurts... Really.

A Love Poem Written Just for You

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You wanted a love poem written just for you. / Here it is. Don’t look askance.

SMOKE & MIRRORS

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These days I wear a flag pin.

Considering a Career

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Mostly, though, reiteration of the old/ in an idiosyncrasy that strives/ to become fresh and fails

Or

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I paid the doctor / You paid the doctor

Under the Night Sky

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wonder at all the things done without regard for you at all.

You Don’t Know Jack.

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Susan said since her divorce three years ago there have been too many Jacks in her life. Seven, if she counted that older guy. She knew that now. Too many. It was the name and little else that drew her to men. She told me the name alone was like Pavlov's bell. It…

Bones

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Got something inside me hard as nails keeps me walking upright ain't never failed

Of the Terrible Angels and Their Fleshy Conduits

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Other pathways are more satisfactory. They are more closely attuned to music of the other world. Even so, the heat eventually burns them up.

Play it, Sam

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...still the same old signs...

Sunday Service

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How they all beat the small drum/ of the word within the world

UNFILTERED

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I made myself tiny as I could, imagining I was Houdini shackled underwater, holding my nose and practicing my escape...

I Was A Republican (For only one day, and it was a long, long, time ago.)

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There was gonna be a rumble in our schoolyard. An outright brawl. It was gonna be just like Blackboard Jungle. Only real. Not some movie at the Duwamish Drive-In. Every boy in my school, it seemed like, was lined up outside except me. All the third and fourth graders…

The Duende

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Now he took his guitar in hand, and at once he felt a strange fiery sensation rise from the soles of his feet, to the palms of his hands, to the tips of his fingers: the Duende. It was that mystical force poets can sense, and no philosopher can explain.

Winyah Bay

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Effie reckons the river her sister keeps asking about, the Great Pee Dee, was named after some Indians.

Duluth Harbor

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"And yet she always went on writing, even when nobody cared if she did or not: if she stopped, she told an imaginary prosecutor in her diary, 'I will not have earned death.' "