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People

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Good kid. Awesome job in big cities. Travels a lot. Enjoys Martinis and G&T. She's a romantic. Spends her time online trolling people into submission. Likes softcore porn. Sets cats on fire. Collects stamps.

Carnival

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I’m well aware of the shadow stalking just to my left, her mannish voice flirting with my sensibilities.

Needles And Sins

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They've put down roots under the dome. Want to push through the ceiling, blot out the sun. I have other plans.

Before Language

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Living in the dark ages without language, I think I’ve been dead long enough. You can come out of the vast fields of night. Come out of the vast galactic storm without light. The darkened dreams that speed past with their false and brightly lit

Chopsticks

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They’re coming now. Thousands of them. Black wings, antennas, spindly legs.

Sunrise

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The musician’s wife had a roving eye. He didn't care. He liked being married to a wild and crazy woman.

The Murder of Crows

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The one-legged crow was back in the yard again. It was there yesterday and maybe before, but yesterday was the first time I noticed it. I've been using my binoculars lately. It is interesting to me...to bring things closer. And it's not just birds, but other things like the…

Sunday in Dogpatch, circa 1990

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Inspired by the photographic work of Susan Lipper. Grapevine series, 1988-92. http://susanlipper.com/gv_23.html

A Story about Tourism

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It was almost like I was dreaming, he is saying, my visit to the ruins of the factory that made the first Narrative Machines.

Lady Gaga Via Richard Cory

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Whenever Lady Gaga took the stage, We peons on the benches cheered for her: She dripped of jewels and paint, and blessed sage, Wore meat as the antithesis to fur.

what time is it really is it?

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. . . the roar of fire speaks lasting heat . . . .

The Shirt Library

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I hate buying shirts. There's no point. You need a shirt, you go to the library.

My Plastic Dreams

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Once, in the past or future, but definitely not in the present, I worked as a transportation minister for a friendly dictator, whose name was neither Hitler, nor Stalin, nor Kim Jong-Un, but whose mustache was toothbrush, whose smile was sardonic to the p

His house

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His house incubates memories. As he sleeps, they hatch.His house is neither here nor there. It occupies a space between watchfulness and insomnia. Grey birds nest on its roof.His house is a refuge from everything except himself. The floor, walls, roof are fat with him.…

forgiveness

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she sees that no one has considered her needsshe feels left out, and so she strikes outon the offensive, nostrils flaringpoints her finger and makes her caseshe has been wronged, justified in her angershe will not back downthe accused one is hurtstrikes back with her own…

The Broken

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A precious heart unfolding the joy within Carefree play marked footsteps skipping along the way Such wonders untold awaiting a time of promise Stilled in the night by a grasping hand Held down in silence fear feeds off this soul Marking its to

Sphynx Clara

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A brick from the parapet splat down later as I was applying a bitter healing powder, made from the seeds of watermelons, to my raw tongue.

His Name Was Tokarsky, But He Looked Like Bob Dylan

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Tokarsky and I got chased off an El train by a couple of mean-looking black dudes who looked like they were going to crush us. I let go a spritz of tear gas that I had on me in the train and we ran as it came to a stop at the Morris Street stop. They chas

Times Remembered

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Delightful days spent at the beach. Children building castles; as parents watched waves glistening under the afternoon sunlight. Sanderlings running with beaks down, hoping for a tasty morsel through the ebb and flow of tides. As time went by, briefcases,…

Horizon

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Over the electronic horizon at an invisible distance nuclear reactors melt like ice cream and release tiny black lines of radiation that wriggle in the air like worms

Journey

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my pilgrim tongue on the map of your body seeks sanctuary

You are here

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meditation and thoughts run in circles

Politics

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These days, you seem to disappear like bread tasted and devoured

The Master of the Air

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He thought of it as magic, but magic that he understood, the way a magician knows about the hidden compartments in his hat and trunks.

An Uneventful Night in an Italian Hospital

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The voice is back! That voice, like milk and honey, like mother, like the school nurse who bandaged my scraped knee.

You Have No Idea

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“I want you to face the toys!”

Sunday Morning Series- 4: Roast Lamb of God

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Squeeze the Word into Flesh

A Man

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He was lit up faintly.Standing in a room of golden proportions (which is not saying a lot), he was one stood man (which is). The only lamp, a seemingly old neon, hanging short from its chains, shone darkly above none. None but a five-feeted glass plane, upon which glossy…

Katie

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Katie died on Tuesday.

Laundromat Haiku

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Laundromat