The day came shyly up to me like a rolling orange thing. Perhaps of alien origin, but not if the Buddha of our foolish hopeless dreamer inside has anything to say about it. It said, pick me up. I did. It looked like forever on the inviting horizon with trees as…

This Tippy’s name was Cheryl — something both of them were so far not committing to paper or saying. Unusual in a salesman, she thought. He is insincere and intends to sell her something.

Alysia raised the staff over the huddle and together everyone created a barrier. The wind blew past them and the grey mist surrounded them.

Little tech puppies, well compensated for code/ that outsourced laborers will realize in supercheap,/ superchipped gewgaws, sip artisan beers

if it were a child/ it would be in first grade this year

The poet said, ‘I feel the fell of dark, not day.” but day it always is. Bright! Bright! the city claims its blue salutes; its stopping in mid-sentence at a name where fingers roam a stone.

The heart attack felt like the time Alison stabbed me with knitting needles. It made me want to see her. She was the fun wife, the first of three. I was morbid and full of regret — my drinking had driven them away, no kids in the wake. I decided to visit all of…

We begged him to sell us some shade. Just enough for half an hour, until our bus would pick us up and drive us to our next destination, continuing what was turning out to be a purgatory tour of forgotten Mediterranean towns.

It was the sodabottle glasses that scared Entro the most. Stubbled with scratches, taped with residual angst and piercing his soul with contempt he’d seen only on the National Geographic Focus Antarctica series - as Seals readied to mangle for Alpha bragg

The pristine Hudson's/waters dance in the dark of/the East River's rinse.

Each time his eyes closed, he shook off the sleep, whimpered, and opened them wide again. I’d never watched a baby fall asleep before, but I realized at that time that falling asleep could be a scary thing. The world gets fuzzy and starts slipping awa

fuck you Charles Bukowski go cry in your eggs in a Jersey diner

Holy shit, man, look at that!” Mike's pimply face melts into drooling bliss. His dad had stopped in this whacko town on the way to our campsite, muttered something about angry lesbians, and disappeared. Rick and I follow Mike's dumbstruck gaze to a shop…

Each little token is the world/ as you knew it at each time and place

Once, asked what time it was, M. replied, "Eternity."