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Stop-time Animation of the Cosmos

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Reality for us must be broken so we can fix the one small insect of it we can capture and pin, wriggling.

SERVICE

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a girl with wolves, dogs and a bear

Not finding you

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Had this been a film, I’d have seen you at once. Extreme close-up: my finger on the green button that opens the door to the park. Long shot: my leaving my bike at the entrance. Slow shot: my walking down the narrow stone path.

Good Morning

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Sleep never fades away quickly. It has to be shaken off, layer by layer, before reality can reach you. That is the way every morning works for me. There are some days when I will sit at the edge of my bed for almost an hour, shedding remnants of dreams

Greyhound

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Published in Exquisite CorpseI…

The Faraday Effect

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Because he tells her to, she puts on a vintage Easter dress one size too small and sprawls in a circle of light on the dusty floor...

Bye-bye Love

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Barbie wore only her clear pink heels...

Donnie's end

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I pointed, trying to keep a rising frisson of alarm from my voice.

Prisoners (edited)

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This cell the sole certainty, all else steeped in mystery. Why should we be here?

Aurora

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Soon everyone will know what is coming.You cast a spell of heaviness and I crumple, horizontal. Like Aurora, sleep is my destiny.Tantalus in reverse, my curse from food forever I will flee, while everything changes;discomfort and…

The Dead Horse on CNN

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The dead horse on CNN was floating there in the floodwater

Pit Stop

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I was more annoyed at the scream, the icy air around us and our eventual destination–his parents, the club, small talk, all that drunken insignia.

Application for Position as Failure

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Dear Sir/ Madam I wish to apply for the position you advertised in the Daily Sun. Although my expertise is in self-obliteration and self-worth (or lack of), and my work mainly in disappointment, I do have much experience in failure, which this letter will…

Bloody Vodka

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Broken glass attacks me

Effort

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For you – because you deserve more effort

West Side of the Tracks

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The bus heads west on Route 36, toward the next stop – Howell, New Jersey. After driving ten minutes, and after crossing the tracks, the bus gets a flat.

Mercy Mercy Mercy

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When I was young and self-born in religion my aunts, uninterested in being washed in the Blood of Christ, called me Preacher Boy. I didn't pay them any attention. It was fine by me, I said, if they wanted to sit around and paint their toenails . . .

My Literary Pockets

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I don’t know what to do with all this money flowing from my books. It’s burning a hole in my literary pocket.

Play Pen

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we're only playing with this language you and I

Milk

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When he smashed his plate in my lap, the dog hung around, licking my wrist and hoping that he would get some milk, too. With my luck, he'd jump in the pool, getting grass clippings all over the edge. My nails were sharp that day, I had to cut them, and I did while…

Dithyrambic

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What's that snitch doin' here?

Grand Theft Auto (a true story)

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He took the car out into the middle of Nowhere, Mexico, and drove it at top speed, off-road for a day and a night. I am talking strut-breaking, axle-wrecking, wheel-bending, paint-peeling conditions and balls-to-the-wall, testosterone-drunk driving.

Six Ways to Say Butterfly

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He repeated these six words like a prayer. His only confession.

A Museum of Numbers

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At street level there is a small arrow on which is printed “Museum of Numbers” that points up a long narrow staircase. There is a restaurant on the first floor. All the way up the stairs, the air is permeated with smell of fried foods

Flush

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"Nice one, sir," the toilet said.

Movies and Songs

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But I am quite sure, in my loneliness, there is nothing that aches inside me more, than a desire to persist.

Confessions of a Closet Hoarder

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Many years ago I visited a nude beach. I undressed at the car and walked with my companions onto a California beach as naked as the day we were born.

Bron-yr-Aur

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The night we broke into Bron-yr-Aur it was too cold to make love. I said I wasn't horny anyway. You put your hand on my forehead: Are you ill?

White girl/boy angst

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I’m secretly hoping for a huge bouquet, a fruit basket, a pickle jar of urine in a lunch bag on my doorstep, even.

Unlucky Star

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“I don’t want you to, not even for one minute,” she continued, tone empowered, “Blame yourself. If anything, you’re the only one who has ever given a damn…” she thought more, then added, “…besides Jeremy.”