Most read stories

Three Short Poems

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no more trying to keep / the peace, no more trying / to keep every person happy. / Just this: no more.

The General

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Where the General is, the world is data and patterns and signatures.

CBGB

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Lou Reed was sitting in CBGB, I was sitting on Greenwich Ave. and West 10th street. I didn't know him then and I didn't know him later either, but we were both there.

She Is My Nightmare

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her skin the color of honey sugary sweet eyes like long-forgotten pathways to a place I can only just recall her hair in twists and her hands touching it fondling it tucking it back behind her ears as she rubs her legs against each other crosses them at…

It's Like

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It’s like drawing with Cesium

How To Write a Poem

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an EZ How to Guide in 50 simple steps

Swiss Miss Index

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Rye goods * Cracker brot: best practices * Recipes: never embellish! * Boughten: what to avoid

42 Mirrors

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What becomes the identity of a woman who has been denied all her rights and thrown into a mental institution?

A Bitter And Unseasoned Business Attorney Makes His Case That "Crazy Heart" Is The Perfectly Nasty Ending

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In closing, Your Honor:After the interview Bad Blake, a/k/a "Otis" takes "Miss" Jane Craddock back to his hotel, ties her up, and gives her a Cleveland Steamer. For reference, please refer to my Brief, Exhibit A, showing a thespian named Ronald Jeremy…

Short Cuts

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The shop is swarming with little women.

Perdition

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There existed within them the deeper perdition, of course, the perdition of culture, American culture, the 21st Century suburban version, made up of Strip Malls From Hell.

Neapolitan

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I wonder how many crumbs he can drop to make a cookie, whole, so I can relax a little and throw out the self help books about how I'm not right in the motherfucking head,

The End of Fun and Games

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A procession of our somber youth— stoned and stunned and broken beyond repair—viewed the boy carved of putty. The mortician painted him stuffed him, presented him to us, the semi-living.

Haiku Haiku, Fattened Feral Kittens, Hobgoblin Test

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and watch the bird play and squirrel play/ and the twitching of cottontail noses

Dump like no other.

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Their dump was like no other in the country. It was bigger than the rest. And, unlike their innumerable competitors, this dump—which sat packed with trash on the surf of an ocean—was organized with care.The Elks took pride in their dump. Three…

Lost

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I can't find my way back to the library. I've heard of this happening, that if you leave even for just one day and for a very good reason, as good a reason as mine, you may not find your way back. Now why should this be so? I do not understand this library. It houses…

Economics

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Man, I'm not feeling so happy anymore. I tried to tackle my money but it slipped past me and ran out the door. I don't have a clue what to do. I'm hungry and I can't be worrying about you while both of us are trying to snag the same pair of…

Coffee-Stained Fangs (excerpt)

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I’m not dog-like in any sexy manner, like a Wolf Man who kills livestock and lurks in the shadows on the outer fringes of society, mouth bloodied at the tips, and waking up as a fully functioning human naked in some field. Instead, I lurk among rows of cu

Some Things You Never Forget

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Some things you never forget, especially if they are repeated frequently. I cannot hear her voice saying those words, now, I have forgotten its timber, its pitch, but I remember the words.

Upstairs on Montague Street

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Benton showed her his old room, a shrine of old posters and records. But it had been cleaned out, made to look like a guest room. “Kiss me,” Benton said. “April.” “That was just a name, so don't get any…

I'll be Home for Christmas - 2

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Warning: contains sexually suggestive comments.

The Man who was followed by butterflies

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They hovered and darted but, after a while, they seemed to be always around him. Lapping at him like the mellow waves that stroked the muddy bank.

Not Even Know It

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I remember the man well, though he didn't notice me.Even though a million tiny things happened to cause his hand to brush me away from his neck, he didn't notice. Much like the way his eyes bounced off women's bodies as he hurried down the sidewalk in his blue wool…

In Paris, The Sweltering

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Then dared each other to travel Much further

Two Lives

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You don't know what it's like to be in the bed as a child and feel the air of fall enter your room and hear the dishes in the cabinets of your home rattle, their doors slammed by some drunk looking for a fresh bottle of liquor. The cool air sweeps over you like…

Too Late

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He brought me kisses from New York.

Falling Off The Roof

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"As the thing lurches upright, I can see now that it is an old woman with snake eyes… a dead old woman with snake eyes and peeling flesh. She is putrid and maggoty. She is coming right at us. She is my mother."

Conditions of a Narrator

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Moore doubted, perhaps, that readers could sympathize with a man who had killed someone for a cause or a girlfriend who forgave him. Perhaps she felt that maiming is (not) worse than murder. Perhaps she decided that the story should be about that.

Bliss

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When he got out of sick bay, they moved him into a room with three other alkies. A kid, a tree trimmer, and a Catholic priest.

Until We Died

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. . . hot sand and quiet ocean only.