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Albert's Mother

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The stern tone of the chairwoman made him miss his mother, the snap of her accusations, the sting of her belt on the backs of his legs.

The Esso Roadhouse

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The night we crossed the Madres my father stuffed his Stetson full of cash.

Not Wanting to Write

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I don't want / to write about the body indulged, desires / denied, tortures invented, pleasures innate

A Silent Scream

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She hated the noiseless dying sound they made as he stuck the hook through their eyes. She always wanted for them to scream, but they never did. They didn’t even blink.

Contagious Blinking

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He pulls on his wispy goatee and shifts his weight a few times from one foot to the other. That doesn’t help. It rarely does, to be honest.

Though the Heart be Still as Loving

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With my heart preserved, I shoved a handful of baubles back in its place: some pages torn from my favorite books, a bass guitar string, a butane lighter, a shot of vodka. I stitched myself back up and left the roof in favor of the attic, where I hung my s

Polaris

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Things get lost in Big John, too. I see the other guys throw jokes about his size at his body that wedge their way into his armpits or into the wrinkles of his laugh lines and disappear. I’m not sure if it all disappears to remind us how small we are,

Not Tired

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Three hours isn't that long.

Time

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time. Night after night he's up, restless. What if she knew his plans? If only he'd bypass his miscalculations and slip through

Aloha

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It’s a little known fact that eels are often lost in translation – only the spotted variety, not the striped or the common and certainly not the electric.... I think about that lovely hippie girl and her knowledge of eels, sometimes.

The Letter

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You know how it is, one day a good friend sends you this long note telling you how-the-hell they are or aren't getting along in the frigging world

The Burning Gulf

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None of us ever thought this would happen.

Perversion

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“It’s a sad thing,” I said, “when a man has to suffer just for getting a little on the side.”

Source Code

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....the first/ in a long history of indignities.

Brick Walls

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A flash in seven chapters.

Preliminary

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After court, the three of us skipped third period, walked down to the river and huddled under the 6th Street Bridge.

The Little Things

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Incredibly he began to picture in his mind a scene not related at all to his frenzied search but of a huge plate of apple pie a la mode with the vanilla ice cream melting in streams like cool lava down the side of the pie and off of the plate.

Disparity

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sacred ground bleached with the salt of bitter tears

Something for you

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Bearing the smell of paper on her fingertips. Ink in her hair.

Everyone Is Going Away

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“I don’t know what’s going on there,” Hank, who hated his name and wanted a more Biblical name because those names (Jeremiah! Matthew! David!)—although common—sound ominous, said as he pointed up to the top of the apartment building that housed the whores

How the Body Prepares Itself

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it corrupts the smells// and flavors of the world/ and plants its swollen face

The Tree is Farther to the Man

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I am constricted by rings. The weight of self crushes me.

Post-Op

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She tells Tuesday's lover that there's nothing wrong with cheap thrills without anesthesia,

Hot.

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She was legally blind. He felt comfortable knowing she couldn’t see him very clearly.

Happiness

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Can you find happiness in the middle of a kidney stone attack?

When the Songbirds Went Silent in Cheerytown

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What happens to a town when all of its songbirds go on strike?

Maximus and Kimchi

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The dogs shit on the roof and then, every two weeks or so, the man in Apartment 311 climbs out the window with a plastic shovel and scoops the shit into a white plastic bag, which soon grows heavy with dung, dangling from his black-gloved wrist.

Serial

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He beats the girl, stabs her 22 times, rapes her, then uses his fingertips to push her orbital sockets into the back of her head before killing her. At trial, he laughs about whether or not there…

The Mosaic Thief

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Bit by bit I was traveling away, we thought. Maybe I’d join myself, all together, in Toronto. Or in an industrial coffee can. Or in the closet. “Check the closet,” I pointed.

Napomo 17: April 7-12

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The drinking will continue/ until morale improves