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Borden, Dream on Lord of the Pies.

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A plague of dykes mattered not. This spider-girl had driven the world of thought from Borden’s mind.

The Measure Of A Man

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Cos I play hard that’s why. Everyday hard. You want someone who ain’t an everyday player ? Try our Closer. But ain’t his fault he’s always sat there in the pen, like he’s taken root. His number lines rely on the rest of the team. So he’s flatl

First the Newborn Birds on High and Then the Awful Climbing Beasts

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"Stop watching the news!Because the news contrives to frighten youTo make you feel small and aloneTo make you feel that your mind isn't your own"--MorrisseyThe world has gone crazy, but please let me make you One of my healing songs. You can eat it now, if you…

Obituary

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I won't fail at this like trying to fix a leaking sink without mud grease or washers tinier than Cheerios.

The Big Game

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The vampire donated floodlights so the children could play ballgames at night. The lights came on but the dugouts remained vacant. The vampire sat alone in the bleachers. “Sometimes I am less than the sum of my parts,” he said to the sum of his parts.

A Quantum of Disappointment

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Reality winks at us then scampers off

Letters from the Asylum (3)

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She stepped into a pair of high heeled slippers and began to dance. She was Salome, a witch, dancing like the most beautiful, the most skilled whores of Paris.

The Case for Mashed Potatoes

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Steam rolls out of the bathroom as Mr. Larson opens the door with a white towel around his waist. Pepper strolls up to him and purrs as she rubs her long, gray tail against his tanned legs."Hey, girl.” He runs his coarse, scarred fingers through the cat's soft coat.…

Conversation between Young Men

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It was stubborn early winter, when everyone was cold but went outside anyways, rubbing red fingers and shuffling feet.

five discards or less

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weep or go stark mad your amanuensic fool will bury your words

The Atlantic

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Phoebe-Lou Adams wrote this of them

Thursday

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Every Thursday, around 11 am, right after the cemetery where I work receives the daily shipment of cremated remains to be interred, a frail nonagenarian steps out of the driver's seat of his Lincoln Continental and walks, unassisted, up a flight of twenty granite steps,…

Mule

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Sometimes cats had to die or dogs

March Madness

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“I’ll be damned,” he said. “I never knew where that was.”

As Pleat

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I turn up the music and slip into drone, rock it like a tunnel in canary. When that does not erase his face, I cup my breast with one hand and let my hair fall.

Unveiling Kirkiss Automated Amazon Reviews!!!

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No! No! Nonononono!

Weary

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At this time of night, the fluorescence makes his eyes bleed. The muscles in his legs are tight; walking's more of a necessity than anything else. Alexander pushes the shopping cart down the endless gray tile floors of the Grand Union on 35.

Wrong Number

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The package arrived, delivered to her work as was her preference. She took it to the ladies room and sat on the lounge, carefully opening the box, removing the new black patent leather FMQs, pulling out the tissue paper stuffed into the toes and placing her well-worn…

The Laughing Grave

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Newhouse returned his gaze to his wet palm, which he lifted to his nose with suspicion, sniffed again and again, then struggled to move out from under the growing stream.

Twister

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The rain pelted down, it got dark, and they couldn't see a thing. The wind roared like a thousand locomotives.

Where Is Daddy?

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He checks the bedrooms first, then the hallway, followed by the living room and the bathrooms. When he can't find you he takes to calling out, daddy, I'm sure the neighbors hear.

Of Mugs and Men

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I want to break that mug. (Break him.)

True Vocation

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After lunch it's vocal coaching: shrieking, screaming, crying Oh-my-God!-Oh-my-God!-Oh-my-God!, panting and face fanning. Next it's ‘situational training', where we pretend to be audience members on real talk shows and practice everything we've learned th

Wild Dreams of Reality, 9

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As we sat at the cafe, Darrell told me that he had to make a mushroom delivery to one of his clients in Berkeley. I never knew whether it was legal or illegal business he was on, and he made a point of not telling me, because he said it was better I didn

Cucumbertini

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“Really? And you write…?” asked her breasts in the black dress, making excellent eye contact. He smiled at them.

Dog Days

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The air is dry and smoky from a fire some miles away. The air is cool. A pair of vultures is soaring in a circle high above the rising land.

Untitled NaNo Project

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My name is Sydnée Figge, and this is the beginning of my story. I suppose it should be said that even though people call me Syd, I am not a man. People who can actually see me know that right away, and I’m not ashamed of that even though I’m a bit olde

A Journey of Seven Thousand Miles

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The taste of / what is denied us is always sweet

Novembering

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Cinnamon and smoke infuse the days that shorten, chill, accelerate.

The Chicken In A Can Incident: A Cautionary Christmas Tale

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Don't feed it to the dog, it has bones, it is a whole goddamn chicken in a can, and I can't stress that enough. Besides one year you gave me a toilet seat for Christmas. I couldn't even eat that Ky