A 20-footer up on skids sky-blue paint beneath the bondo

I know you through the rich dark brown soilcrumbling in my fingers like chocolate cake.I imagine you nurtured bell-shaped papayas,coaxing their smooth, leathery skinfrom green to yellow,while mangoes, the colors of the island sunset,hung with their tantalizing sweet…

on cd I make john hiatt does not smash perfectly good guitar

In one hand she cradles a cigarette, in the other a glass of red wine. Typically neither of these things would be allowed in here, and on this occasion it was thought that it would be better to let her do what she wanted.

and you fall down.

a man sees salamander bands / a-cracklin on the scree

There are moments in life where it's like you're driving late at night and you should be on your way home but really you're just rolling along aimlessly through the city streets when suddenly you turn a corner and realize the road is open and empty for miles to come, a…

So into the woods we went, hoping to open a portal into the netherworld of make believe. I had a feeling we would see nothing, but she believed in me. At the very least I would spend a few very nice days backpacking in the wilderness.

The heart of those stars is a dab of yellow light. The darkness of the blue night appearing so deep because of the downward strokes of the actual sky interspersed with a violet that is almost black above the truly black silhouettes of the city buildings

It was a mildly windy day of the working week in the financial district of the city—the bright morning sun was out—when a security guard was called to the fifteenth floor to deal with a disruption. “This way.” Someone pointed to a desk. At the desk

I lay on a table in a cold room in one of those little blue gowns that open in back.

I awake to find a heavy chain shackled around my ankle. I try to remove it but cannot. The length of the chain runs through my apartment, sometimes coiling around itself, but eventually leading out my front door.

Passing by PallanteumOr ‘Dido's Song' Form: Double Sestina, iambic pentameter, rhymed Who knows of hell, knows less of paradise? I've known them both, when vanquished in your eyes, When draws the kelp where lost men had their graves Below…

The mist monster leaned over the building, drawing its face close to Mayumi. Its’ lavender eyes locked onto the Magi as she stood there ignoring Rumiko’s calls to flee.

The first time that Beethoven’s Fifth was played, people ran into the streets.