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How to Cheer Up a Sad Song

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It's one of the most difficult problems of aesthetic philosophy: What do we mean when we say that a song is sad? None of the big names--Aristotle, Kant, Croce–Benedetto, not Jim–come close to answering it.

Norm Bladdon, Private G.I.

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I'd had a long, hard fall from the pinnacle of the profession. I made the mistake of accepting a mouse pad, coffee mug and a fleece pullover with the logo of Upchux, an anti-reflux drug, on the left breast where you'd get heartburn.

Is This Seat Taken?

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A single woman should regard every train ride as an opportunity, I once read in one of those “How to Find A Boyfriend” books. “When boarding the train, don't take the first available seat,“ the author advised. “Walk through all the cars…

Prologue - On the Lips of Children

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Their tongues were dry, her milk was gone, and the last bit of water in the plastic jug had evaporated.

Any migration is forced

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I’m not / going to change you I /promise

C-ing History

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Conjure calamity and calamity comes.

castaway

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the epiphany at the mast at midnight is not the same at dawn

Shadowland

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His touch, even now, seemed to set off tremors inside her.

Half Awake in a Fake Empire

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Cooking dinner for one in a city that isn’t my home. A beautiful city that I’m slowly losing interest in, just as I become a local. In a tiny apartment set in the most realistic part of town, I’ve turned the music up loud to drown out my thoughts.

King Street Station

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Despite the newly bright bricks and the working clock, Cassie couldn't help but take a deep breath before entering King Street Station. She had always tried to hold her breath when her family cut through it on the way to Mariners games but had never succeeded, not…

Here Comes The Pope!

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In the words of that great philosopher Hunter S. Thompson, "When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."

The Judge's Wife Part 8

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—You're convinced I'm crazy. I'm convinced you're incompetent.

Leaping Through Flames

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I should have never gotten involved in such a huge lie. I was a poet, for God's sake, not a novelist. I wasn't used to lying.

WAR AND MUSIC AND VIDS TO GO WITH

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I. Europa How else to begin but with Gustave Holst's Mars--the gods waging war in romantic twilight as drumbeats and cannons blast swathes in the gloaming and glory awaits in the halls of black smoke. A visual perhaps:…

Existential Dioramas

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and, under foot,// dark caves waiting/ with their unseen pigments/ adorning forgotten walls.

The Mutes

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Some people are born that way, and some people do things to themselves that keep them from talking. Like opening up a soda bottle with your mouth.

Nocturnal Bypass

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As I fall to the ground I realize that in a few moments I will be experiencing a new kind of pain. The last pain. The last pain I will ever feel.

Capital Offense

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They can’t exterminate the poor just yet

When Bad Things Happen To Other People

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Years ago, I was involved in a freakish tragedy so startling and heartbreaking that it made the front page of not only my local newspaper, but “People” and “The National Enquirer.” I'm not going to tell you anything about it. This means that…

Washing the dishes...

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There are certain items in the sink that are giving me an anxious feeling in my stomach.

In the Parking Lot

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Maybe they considered themselves beyond redemption, or maybe they couldn't sit for that long.

Perfect Lady

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The Tea Party member was married but cuter. He worked as a caulker, a tub and basin man.

The Industrious Mice

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I am not responsible for any nightmares this piece may cause for all you mice lovers!

Wild Origin

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Seeking your will, instead we found, somehow, a clutch of our own documents; folded under a rubber band gone to rot, muddy strands nestled in the creases.

August 1976 Jefferson City, MISSOURI

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"We gotta find a way to get high!" "Shh! My parents will hear you Tommy! Their bed is right above us." …

Rant.

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Robert Frost told me that life goes on, but that’s just not good enough for me and for God’s sake it shouldn’t be good enough for you either, should it?

Secure

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This is the Minuteman tine/ of the three-tined fork// we can stick into the modern world/ when it’s done-- a MAD triad.

The Mujahideen

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Eighteen-year-old Svetlana Kabalevsky was now the widow of the poet Dmetri Kabalevsky, soon to be another widow-whore on the Moscow highway.

Bridges Are a Lot Like Long Corridors

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Nothing good ever waits at the end of a long corridor.

Fantasy Wiring

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In the mechanics of the fantasy, it is essential that the wiring is maintained, all circuits working, every current flowing with the precise measurements, lest the system malfunction and the world completely lost. The engineers are constantly abuzz, constantly understaffed…