Most read stories

Under My Skin

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Story of my life: I was ready for a nightcap and she was just beginning her night.

Sorry

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...society has tampered with its denotation so much that it is almost incomprehensible without context.

The Condescending Skies of June

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I have become a prisoner of my own fractured mind/ A paranoid weirdo behind the horizontal bars of window shades

MARTIAL LAW - LOCK DOWN IN PARADISE

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Six just left to drive 8 hours thru the jungle. They’ll emerge in a year in military guerilla uniforms. One guy threw up getting in. A friend writes, “I started a Free Mike Todaro Campaign. Hope to raise a couple of hundred dollars. We will, of co

A Martyr

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I've written of this and I've written of that, Have scriven as you have it either that or this: But if you strive against the wind when you decide to piss, They say, you'll find up firing against your hat- Like some old Brother who was broiled when…

The Donkey

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Since dawn doesn't understand my words, I will give them to the donkey, finely cut for him, let them ferment some time and add a few sprigs of lucerne. The donkey grazes in the meadow down the road and always welcomes me with a grin that displays his mauve gums and his…

Caitlin's Boots

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A horn honks, brakes squeal, Chloe’s screaming, pulling at her. She’s lying on the sidewalk. Her shin hurts. Her knee. Chloe kneels beside her. Ring of kids staring. I’m good, she says. I’m good.

Goodbyes

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.

Goodbye

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In the end, he knew he wasn’t going home.

Startled by Towels

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I woke up when the smoke alarm insisted. Either the curtains were on fire or I hadn't changed the battery.

9/11 Memories

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She was just a small dog with a big heart.

Smooth and Crunchy

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No freebies. You want to read it, you have to read all of it.

Induce Me

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Life's a beach? A bitch? Same thing.

the long white cloud above my body

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Butter me up, moon lover. Remember, I was once your warm and hot goddess of flowers, washed to shore with the others you may have forgotten. Now the issue of the earth gets nearer, and we can see each other once again, if only in our dreams. Just be

Sanguine

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Gripping the sink, head bowed, I let the blood gather on the rim of my nose, pooling for a moment, before its fleeting journey towards the basin.

2011

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This year, 2011, you bring about my thirtieth year. I'm apprehensive about this, but mainly because my father made me watch "Logan's Run" as a kid...

Control

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I’m afraid

13 poets in Hell

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1Paradise Lost is cast into the lake of fire. Satan tells John Milton to rewrite it in 140 characters or fewer.2Filippo Marinetti languishes in a dismal rural idyll. His hand, possessed, scrawls euphonic odes to the moon with a quill.3Henri Michaux floats through the…

Suicidal at Bed Time

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Some nights I want to take my father’s glock / and build my skull a sunroof.

Neat

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His audio archive of Bay Area musicians extends along two walls, twenty-five by fifteen feet, in drawers of C.D.s hundreds deep. Where will it go, I asked, permanently.

Where Does Love Come?

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He was rummaging through his giant pile of clothing on the floor, looking for something to wear to sleep. When he couldn't quite tell what was dirty and what was clean, he knew it was time for laundry. Just as he was going to…

The Black Madonna

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They say I am filthy. On this high pillar I perch like a stuffed avian relic, flightless, no prey. The horizon before me is broken by scuff and foreign tongue, by atomized evil. Pleas, and there are many, are answered by the only prayer I know, the one prayer, which…

The Stranger

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“I can't go to sleep,” Jonathan said, laying on the doctor's couch. He counted on his fingers to keep his mind active. “I'll certainly die if I do.”

My First Love Messages Me On Facebook

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He tells me that he thinks he reached out as he needed healing and I wonder if I should diagnose him on the spot, explain what years of therapy taught me about him. I don't. Instead I compliment a photograph of the pot plants he grows, organic,

Our Last Tea Party

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It’s the Tea, stupid. Drink up.

Max Beckmann Poem

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the unutterable things of this world

She’s Dead

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Hank: Yeah, the way her head was bashed in, it looks like someone really had it in for her. Did you call the coroner? Bill: Yeah. Boy, you couldn’t pay me enough to do the stuff those coroner and medical examiner guys do. It seems like

Some Things Can't Be Fixed

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Orchids strewn over the floor...

What I'd Have to Call My 'Meatsack Family'

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This story is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental and unintentional and should not be inferred. (Really!)

Inner City

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This time he was dressed in a snap-brimmed hat, zoot suit with a gold chain and two-toned shoes; something out of a sad, lost Los Angeles past. I had no choice but to follow him as he walked down stairs that led to the Metro. We stood near one another,…