I had a friend in high school that wore a size G bra and we would take guesses on how much her tits weighed in comparison to the rest of her body. I spent a night wondering how she kept upright.

Those in the house don’t notice the sweaty woman on their lawn any more than they notice the Ruger LCP pistol she holds limply in her right hand.

He had that kind of connection / with his cocktails, intimate / sort of like a boy and his dog. // Cocktails have in any case / saved him from the bottom / of many dark wells. /

Then I am in Washington DC impersonating an accountant.

The Traignarry Light Preservation Society meets monthly, and welcomes visitors.

Even at five years old, I could tell that Eloise was haunted by ghosts that shook her core, leaving her dangling and seeking stability in slowly repeating her compulsive routines.

He stopped believing in God when he learned how balls worked. Spermatocytes turned into spermatids and spermatids turned into spermatozoa, the transition taking place in tiny loop de loops called the seminiferous tubules which contain at least three…

The night before we dug John Clark's grave, my brother and I stood outside his windows and got an eyeful. Rose, his wife, should have closed the blinds. There she was in the arms of Willard, her neighbor, middle school science teacher. It was a serious…

". . . Stinkin' vampires, death to all of ’em, them and their plague-festerin' rats. But the new ones, I don’t mind takin’ ’em down before gettin’ rid of ’em. —But you’ll never get that smell off o’ you if you use only one condom, I’m here to tell you . .

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…

I remember the days when my brother and I would walk down Tillman Square, careful to avoid the cracks zigzagging along the ground. Well I did. My brother made a point to step on every one.

It was a bright day in April, the cruelest month, and the gears and pumps of the train beat on into the still air.

I remember how silk felt against skin, dressed in my damn flimsy things, while the cold bit my nipples. How I would lie in your arms when I was young, after being awakened from my pubescent slumber. (Enough of that!) In a rush to grow up for good, holdi

I imagine Gene Simmons licking a twelve year old girl that looks like Erin dressed in a dog collar and leash.

These clouds are what I havewith me. Their language is minebut it is drying today aswe speak. I catch the darkeningsparks, but that's not to beyour concern. I am sure youshall go on. What I wantis to deliver your song. Idoubt it is for anybody else.Clouds are good at…