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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…
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the little crummy salon that churned out little fat women with pinked curly hair
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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
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“I’m making a dress,” she said, feeding the pages through the sewing machine.
He didn’t know how to answer. “Are those my books?”
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Mutiny is the last I remember.
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I clearly see the squirrels of
negativity all around me
or at least I sense that
they are there,
filling in the blank spaces
as I read down the page
prior to arriving at
the meaning of everything.
The greenness of figs
before they
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The snap of a broken heart is exactly One second longer than this poem is going To be when it finishes up being said . The snap Of a broken heart is unlike anything that Cartwheels out of sync with the rest of Us truly lucky ones. The broken snap of a …
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Love needs loathing like cold weather needs warm clothing. And all truths, untruths and part truths need a place to live when a mind gets too sardine-packed with information and cynicism...
Some say there was a time when the light was brighter, the ear
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The moon poured more/
light into the sky/
yet we kept on talking
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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.
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Times were tough back then. Just a few jobs. This was in the late thirties. It's the story of how Albert hooked up with Iris. Their unlikely meeting took place when they met out on the Highway 61 right-of-way just outside of Natchez, Mississippi, each trying to hitch…
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They could cram Rob inside the trunk and then drop him somewhere in the dingles.
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If I floated about this coffee cafe,Like a spirit, just watching.In this room of framed fake memories,A room of ambient light, marketing to the masses,(It works; it gets 'em in the doors.)If I floated, I'd seeThese people sitting—eating, drinking, sipping, typing,…
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George was the biggest coward alive. But he was too afraid to admit it. But that therein was his cowardice. He couldn't face the truth. He couldn't face his weakness. It made him uncomfortable, the thought that he might need to change.
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some days you wake up/ to feel horror/ wrapped beneath your blanket./
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“Choices overwhelmed us,” Thomas continued, years later, “like waves crashing.”
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His name is Rick Reynolds. His name is Steve Redford.
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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
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Clouds quickly appeared, in a perfect peach sky. Big, puffy clouds, moving together, formed the shape of a heart.
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On shingle of seashells &
Bullet shells,
Ghosts drift along the shore
Of the Black Sea.
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After the ship stopped shaking, the angry flashes of warning lights discontinued, a few people could be heard sobbing or whispering prayers.
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In an authentic Irish pub in Las Vegas where over much crowd noise the three of us are discussing Yeats, Joyce and Lady Gregory. We’re in an Irish pub after all, plus the fact we’re literature profs attending a Vegas academic conference.
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Hoo-ah! I love these open mikes, I get a chance to pour it out, this… whatever it is, this passion, all this love from I’ll never know where, and then, and then, sometimes, too much hate. Everything’s like all zowie!—splashing scarlet and purple,
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There's something wrong with my feet, if they are my feet at all.
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—Jesus, a snoring cat. No wonder Alex put this cat outside.
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The women were increasing their writing in the restroom. I asked you later why women only talk on restroom walls, and you said, why do men only talk on restroom walls? I told you as much as I could remember of what had been written.
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She remembered how cold it was in the factory that day. A few of the high windows stood open as usual, necessary for ventilation when the machines were all running, when the concrete floors were packed with the sweating bodies of warm human workers. The
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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…
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