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Cheesecake

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Eric was born with three testicles.

Composition: 3 generations and a porch

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It is 1939...

Couplets Regarding an Impasse

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Life is easier for the handsome. / They are more pleasant to deal with.

Cost

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I rifled through the bedside table until I found dirty magazines

just not working

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some days you wake up/ to feel horror/ wrapped beneath your blanket./

Göttwigg’s Fandango

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It is not unusual to see Göttwigg with his shirt on inside out.

At the Cafe

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The light on his face from a lamp, felt hat with a black band scrunched down, the light on his face as though thrown there, the nose creating a strong shadow, with dark, straight eyebrows under the hat, red and orange beard. Leaning forwar

At the Juvenile Bubonic Plague Telethon

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We’re not like a lot of your fly-by-night disease-based charities. Every pence we raise goes directly to St. Bartholomew’s, where 90% of it ends up in the pockets of doctors so they can buy expensive horses.

Others - An Long Island Fairytale

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Welcome to OTHERS. A place where I hope you will experience the enchantment of a time and place like no other MATTITUCK 1971 LIKE YOU NEVER KNEW IT

Neural

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Then I am wearing a brightly colored raincoat while sitting on a deck among hundreds of tiny glowing spores

Five Million Yen: Chapter 58

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Anatoly Gringovitch was listening to the dress rehearsal of Hausenstockmann’s Constellations at Auditorium Rainier III in Monte Carlo.

Osama, Osama--He's After Your Mama!

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Captain Zeep came to Earth at last century's end to help pave the way for a Zorkian takeover by 2012 at the latest. Key to the game plan: Earthlings had to get dumber than eggplants. When George Bush stole the White House, Zeep figured, Bingo, dumb…

"A bit less hot Tuesday"

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The faces of the sun remain unaltered across the seven day forecast. I am sweat-glued to a poem, looking up at the wall-mounted TV in a diner in the Valley

shakey

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You held my hand when I hit the ground and told me the shakes would start soon.

Route 346

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Route 346 is the way Pop drove to Troy long after everybody else took Route 2. Today Charlie and I drive in the opposite direction. Back then, Pop drove us to Troy on Route 346 on Sunday afternoons with the car windows…

Harvest

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When the hay was ripe it stirred and rippled like water.

Strangeness

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The goose on the roof isn’t aware it is doing anything odd...

Strings Go

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This woman is naked to the waist and then nakeder below that.

Silver & Suds

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my hands splash in to silver and suds in attempts to rinse blues caked in grease away for a while

Rain Song

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Feelin’, feelin’ good, down-fallin’ down/rain, rain, rain came today,/wet alfresco alchemy

Anthropometamorphism

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I have known a head become / a callus, matriculate, stop / shaving, move to Vegas

Sweet Sorrow

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He sat at the bar and waited for her. He looked at the noon drinkers with indifferent eyes.

Doppio Macchiato

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Sulawesi-Kalosi brews bitter and watery without proper care.

Mother O'Grady's Last

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Christmas night was closing in at the Cantrips alehouse in Aberdeen, a firm favourite for riggers and other men and women who lived life close to the horizon. Sometimes, on a Saturday night, things might get a bit rowdy but Mother O'Grady would stand firm and bring out…

Ode to Flannery O'Connor

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Gert sat in the car and wiped at the inside of the window while the defroster blasted at full strength. The shards and slivers of ice that networked across the windshield were just thick enough to hinder visibility. Bane wrenched the door open and shoved

Caucasus

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On shingle of seashells & Bullet shells, Ghosts drift along the shore Of the Black Sea.

Were I Konstancja Gladkowska

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My playing would falter languidly, and transcend itself like a wishful Nocturne

Library

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Let's start from the beginning. Your mother's face in the phone. Your parted lips. Your surprised tongue. Hands deep in the folds of your skirt. The poet filling your pockets with blue and orange. The poet filling your notebooks with slowly drifting fields and gramophones…

Gastro Ad Astra

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He had a simple dream: He wanted to become a star, and not one of those tv stars because those die, those die all the time, and before dying they usually become terrible shadows of their former selves, vile creatures who exploit their own former glory...

By Saturday, We'd Be Singing

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My uncle lived part-time in prison, in a cell with a blanket, pillow, and towel. The remainder of his days he lived in a small house on Prospect Street.