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Forevergrad

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The man was sitting at his makeshift kitchen table. He was forty-five years old. He wore his mortarboard with tassel whenever he left his home. Once inside either a reputable establishment or one generally considered less so, he was sure to take off his m

The Judge's Wife Part 2

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"Do you kiss all of your models?"

Checking Out

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Minnie looked at her co-worker's nametag. "Destiny," she said to her. That's a pretty name. It suits you. You're an attractive young lady. Is your momma pretty?" "Not like I am," Destiny said as she smoothed her shiny black hair. "I'm honest about it 'ca

'With All Due Respect . . . '

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Our deepest, most heartfelt apologies about the recent MySpace Bulletin, which mentioned your name and recent film and quoted you in jest. Your fifteen-page retalitory riposte was received by this office this morning, via fax sent by your assistant.

Sea Bubbles

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"I don't know why you say good-bye, I say hello."--The Beatles Things fall from the clouds. Things fall from thefloor. Maybe through, maybe all the way.Everyone argues for their homeland.Someday I'd like to hold your hand. I'mstill dreaming. I hope it continuesto rain…

exile on and off the road

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had I gotten home without knowing it? well . . .

Sidewalk Cafe at Night: van Gogh

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while the fat stars stand out in the cobalt night.

Autumn

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I have never known how gold this time of year, With its palladium arcade, was, of the trees That do not sense the pleasure of their silence; Trees are egalitarian, they do not speak But concourse among themselves, consent to join us At this moment breathing…

The Maple Leaf Club

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One of his operas was confiscated when he couldn’t pay a hotel bill. He ended up in a mental home, demented from syphilis.

Bright Red

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They shoveled coal into the furnace of the city so the ghosts would be warm for their haunting.

Domestic Sketches

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The cats sniff at the small opening,/ one by one, in a furtive casualness./ They think the outside air is sweet

How To Give Dating Advice as a State Social Worker

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I tell him if he wants to impress a girl he should learn to cook. He shifts his body. I add, crab cakes work well.

Survival

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When nothing's coming in All I have are fragments Cloudy memories Uncompleted projects Disappointments loom large and threaten to define me I am only as good as what I produce And now I feel empty So how do I shine How do I find the spark that…

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Coda

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—Man, what a tearjerker way to end an interview, said Ben.

Terminal Velocity

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...she did wish she lived somewhere in Ancient Rome, and from one of those seven hills, perhaps during sunset, she would resolve to roll down and meet the flaming orb just as it descended so she would dissolve into embers and ash...

Nineveh

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My heart was a puzzle completely incomplete, until I learned of love in your embrace.

Good Old Days

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That night, when Nostalgia knocked on my door just before dawn, I had just enough time to catch her coat as she slipped it off and staggered into my apartment.

Pomegranate juice thief walks home

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That is a six-word story. Notice that the meaning does not change with the word count. Syllabic count: pentameter (ten). Keep these commas.

Trailer Park T'ai Chi Brings Wisdom of Orient to Midwest

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He adopts a stance known as Part the Wild Horse’s Mane but calls it a different name--the Part the Hair of the Skanky Barmaid for a Bleachjob position.

Haikus for Miss Winehouse

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Drag queens weep sequins

glass

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She laughs and licks it.

Hey, Boys, Bandits!

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I remember one time that summer I was with you (1964) going to a bar in maybe it was Melrose Park, or Northlake, or somewhere along Roosevelt Road closer to Chicago, not as far as Cicero though. I went there with a crazy gear-head named Roger Hudson, wh

Shiny Dime

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I saw the shiny dime . . . .

Lassitude

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It's morning, and the cold black hull of branches sets my resting pier, Amid this drizzle, underneath the poignant pain of birches, wrecked By floods of midyear grieving; wraithlike, Dawn's been becked To paint in shafts of faded rose that shades the fen…

Variations on a Theme by Pina Bausch

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Threads of sadness in the hands, in the touch

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.

Sunday Storms

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Poems reflect their poets. / Mine: ugly but loved. / It is just as well.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 32

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Wait a minute, said Ben. What do we really know?

Filaments

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It's always dark when Cal and I arrive. We park under the bright sodium lamps, closest to the doors. The lights will probably be off by the time we return, unless the sensors miscue in the uncertain light of early morning. When that happens, the lights…

what time is it really is it?

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