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He brought me flowers once, three wilted carnations I put in water, though the sight of them made me uneasy. He brought me pictures once, too, of three sisters—ten, twelve, fourteen—straddling dirt bikes. He touched my shoulder once, as I edited pictures …

Caliban's Dream

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Today I’m feeling crabby and haggard and technology makes it easy to get to the point.

Pleasure (it was) after all...

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I'm gonna write about this after...It'll either be a tale of pain or pleasure hopefully the latterI don't understand how this workswhy sometimes I want to hide from myself other times I can just give in, fully,and everything isohsoheightenedI want it to be beautifuland…

Sold 2 Books Though

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Reading at Menlo Park Senior Center, old people falling asleep leaning to the left in their chairs, all in the same direction.

In Knucklebones, This Is What We Keep

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Outreach the ostrich

Strange Humidity

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The kitchen is full of old girlfriends. I avoid them. They are munching on cheddar and sharing stories I'm sure I don't want to hear.

Bio Bit

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It was your present world that seemed more than mad to me. Your polished stiff brown shoes that always squeaked like mice, while the latest rude Bombers bubbled up in their comfortable Dart-board garages like apple pies…

Snapshots

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On a street-lit night in Jeddah.

We're all Mad here. I'm Mad. You're Mad!

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She heard the quick footsteps and knew where they were headed. Running down the hall she knew she “only had 1 hour left and there was no time to waste”.

Conversations with my brother

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Maybe it takes as much fortitude To forget As it does To remember.

Before I Die

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...to know they are not alone

Exhale

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It's as if the house knew I was relinquishing my hold on it.

Session

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Maybe it might be best to, you know, have less frequent meetings.

Linear A

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let’s press our words into the clay/ in language so completely dead/ we have to re-imagine it.

Saturday Birthdays (from FATHER MUST)

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When his mother was all dressed up on New Year’s Eve, and his father, even thought they had tickets for the dance, announced to her he wasn’t going to go, Johnny had gone into his room, put on a white shirt, a dark suit, his dress shoes, and a clip-o

various verses

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in a willow garden lush shade/drapes dark the young woman's small house/with the lone window, the white door . . .

It is Easier Than You Think To Ride A Train: The Q & A

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Q:What made you want to be a person who rides a train? A:As soon as I learned there was such a thing, I wanted to be one.

it

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where will we be/ when it happens?

Various War Stories

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War Stories #1The Germans didn't like that theJews had such beautiful women.War Stories#2There must have been a war between the good witches and the bad witches. It's the only thing that would account for such troubling times.Woman With Yellow HatWhy did…

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 7

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Frank kept looking over at Michiko’s loft.

Name

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Every day, I write myself further away From the East Where we began

Imaginary Photo Album

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Let me swim into your eyes. Let me show you my world. My album. My Albania. My albumen.

68 & Riverside

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Martin met Siena in the elevator, carrying two brown bags of groceries. She asked him to press the button for floor eight. As they rose, Martin fixed his eyes on the display as it changed numbers: G, 2, 3… and so on.

It's Part of the Plan

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...and on the eighth day

Skin Wins

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One day, my feet and hands got into an argument. My feet argued that they were superior because they were not only the foundation of my body, but the cause of its mobility. They were modest in size, yet supported and transported an entire body that towered over them.…

The Window (Part II)

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When we saw the window, we were impressed. It was so clean and transparent that it reminded us of a new pair of glasses, everything so crisp and clear through it. It looked on to nothing. Actually it looked on to the refridgerators and a few stoves, though most of the…

Mercury Unbound - 5

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As the music concludes, I'm finally in control of my emotions . . .

Music That Tastes Like Blood

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It is your music that makes me want to crack open my ribcage and rip out my heart as it still beats, to cauterize my carotids, and shove the mechanical insides of a clock into my thoracic cavity.

Not Good Enough

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So where does that leave me, Roscoe Loomis wondered, dismounting his silver, aluminum steed in his sweat-soaked, spandex outfit, and, clearing the saliva from his beard he walked over, checked and smiled, learning that the bike track's timing unit showed it was Roscoe's…

First Rain of the New Year

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Compartments trickle together/ in light diffuse and unreliable./ Fortify yourself against the day.