1568 4 4
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I slide my CD toward Eric Burdon who sits, smiling and gracious and fatigued from Seattle traffic, at the table at Silver Platters, where I have just purchased ‘Til Your River Runs Dry, and stood in a line of old gray heads to have him sign it. I remove my hat and…
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156865
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I was low on carburetor / oxygen and my fraud protection / had just expired.
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1567115
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The spectacle of weather/
on the prairies approaches.
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156721
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Up top, the sky is like a fist fight-
fat lip purple and bitchslap pinks get wilder as the tabs kick in.
Those hovering lights are aliens!
we assert with insistent like-mindedness
from where we sit directly beneath the airport flight path.
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156720
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I woke up pissed off—like that feeling you get when you take a long nap in the afternoon. Except instead of being on a couch or a bed, I was trapped in a mashed-up Honda on I-75.
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156763
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It is midnight in Utah, but I can’t tell. It always looks like midnight in a cave.
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156754
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Two days ago, a friend of mine and I met at my house. She was a nurse, and could only visit my house very late at night when her shift ended. We don’t meet often because she is very busy saving lives and generally being a more useful human being in societ
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156784
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He spotted her in Sarasota Whole Foods surveying the artichokes
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156700
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She can still be normal, says Momma, knowing my sister can’t hear, forgetting I can.
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156611
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Behold! Passion fruit!Aureolin sun condensedRolls off palm and tongue.Spurn taut rounded skinWait for wrinklesRipeness revealed, resplendent —The pinnacle of worth.
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156611
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I dream about the boy in The Neverending Story, the gate of mirrors, and the Nothing, a dark cloud that floats in the sky, takes away everything.
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156611
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I took advantage of a free period this afternoon to nap. When I awoke, I tasted blood. My tongue was swollen. I checked myself in the mirror and saw twin punctures on my lower lip with pinpricks of blood on each. I winked at my reflection and lifted my li
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1566125
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Monday will come soon enough to get/
what needs to be done, done.
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156611
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When flash and bang merge you are, according to the manual, in deep do-do.
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156697
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Jeanne and I were married for eight years. I never knew her.
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156642
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The ambient sound wheezes on.
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156633
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15661711
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...when they entered eager lungs hungry from deep and sweaty love
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156673
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Ginny, the mother, was a lark in every respect of the word. Born and raised in central California farm country, to a family of lower middle class means, educated in public schools in whose bathroom stalls she was deflowered as unceremoniously as a pig ta
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156600
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Harv and Julianne He has woken here now, on this bed, and on this particular day, many times. His fifth year in the cabin, his fifth December in Helen, his fifth, he is sure, of many…
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156696
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Earlier that morning a tree in the yard had filled with starlings, and on the way home after lunch, the sky held planes that looked like starlings, floating together.
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1566119
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A cheap pocket knife was the only sharp I carried in my backpack and they allowed me that. The man with the pot tattoo on his neck said, “All of us here needs some type of knife. You gotta cut up your food. We don't…
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156641
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The most unoriginal, trite and hackneyed story ever written!
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156661
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The lipstick on your collar walked up the steps and through the front door, without a key. Her smile was hypnotically red and bountiful. The guards standing around didn't dare frisk her for weapons, her lips were weapon enough.
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156543
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They found your athymic neck/clipped like a bag of Skittles/and your lifeblood left a Rorschach test on the dash/in which they saw the future/and their own exits/(straight ahead and to the right).
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156500
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Why did he seek punishment, if he felt no guilt? Why this empty conscious, though he had done such evil?
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156533
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The shit just doesn't want to come off.
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1565910
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When the dark shadows of his limp eyes told us life was slowly seeping away, stolen by his stroke, his wife signed the “DO NOT RESUSCITATE” order and, tearfully leaving the room, she turns, asking a final question, “Think a needy family could use his…
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156511
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The dance draws deeper
whirling witches weaving rhymes
The fire spits fierce in the falling rain
soon the spell will spill from secret times
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156543
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When I met Gregor Samsa he was still a cockroach, erratic and skittish whenever the light came on. We often spoke in the dark. I empathized with the man. I mean bug. Ok. That isn't fair. You can't call a man a bug because he chirps and eats dried skin cells. A…
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