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Sunday Storms

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

Instructions Found in an Empty Can of Coffee

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If you find a lone, sad honeybee, buy a Habitrail cage and make it your new pet.

The Artist Wannabe

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Hot Weather

Sailor & I

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We were born here. At the top of the stairs underneath a painting of basset hounds playing croquet. And a hallway closet filled with lost someones. And the police, three times a week, singing nursery rhymes while walking up to our door.

Full Moon

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Creatures of the dark don’t follow daylight savings

Day Off Work

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My time glass allocation nears its end.

I Waited Too Long to Remember

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We're in a sedate forest next to a boisterous beach. The sky is sea green above the trees and forest green above Sinepuxent Bay. Chaste squirrels are keeping a lookout for bad-boy gulls. Kids on circus bikes ride out of the woods into their bathing suits. The…

Joint Custody – The Second Coming

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A little boy sits at the table. He hears a knock at the door.“Mo-om!” the boy calls out. “Door!”His mother comes from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her clothing.“Jesus!” she says. “Would it kill you to answer the…

The New Lycanthropy

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Who remains after the aching night has departed into dawn and left us to week-old sleep

Let’s Swing

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You don’t want to tango with me, she said.

Ten Beginnings of Stories about Grizzly Bears

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1. The Grizzlies met with the other forest animals for a meeting about voting rights. I was there too, you know, to prevent chaos or something. 2. Mom didn't like it when I took in a …

Citronella Socks

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a cat named email..

Violet Hour

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“My name is Violet,” I add. I am trying to stop lying. Going without cigarettes has been easier.

Johnny Bruzzone: Pool Hustler

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I was a coward and didn’t want to get killed like Heimley. Heimley was a nut at high school. I saw him myself one night put his hand right through the windshield of this car he was working on, along with a monkey wrench. Sure, he was drunk, but th

Dust to Dust

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He began to chop the powdery substance and separate it into segments.

afternoons

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i think god composed afternoons with crayons

four haiku

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years later ghosts enter. . . .

things to know about the people parked along the road that runs through Humboldt Park: part 20

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I traced the vein that rose in her temple when she got angry all the way along her body until it ashed out varicosely on her smooth calf.

Love-sad

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Then there she is, and she makes me love-sad; it's a vehement, absolute, hard love-sad no one else needs to understand, though they can see; it's an emotion so concrete it's felt from the chest, not from a tenuous concept called heart.

Ave Maria: Part 6

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“I swear that man is a force of nature.” This was her mother's way of describing her father whenever her mother came too close to the precipice. While growing up, she could never allow herself to fully acknowledge the meaning behind her mother's…

Kwaazy Wabbit

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destroy the day rip up the track jump in the water eat nothing but bugs

REM-Embering my LED

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Someone desperately dials a number. Iris, draped tight.

Downtown

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bullets in flight make sharp, snapping noises.

The Fourth Prague Defenestration: 8

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“Okay,” Boris said, wiping his mouth, “ready to go see these paintings by Lenin? We go now.” “Where are these paintings exactly?” Ellen of Troy (NY) asked. I didn’t mention which Troy she was from. “I have friend in Prague,” Vladimir said. “Has sh

moonstruck

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i waited for the moon last night for hoursfell asleep with the record player on and dreamedof rain running downgutters of sea glass housesthe sun nudged me awakeand she served me toasthe's not serious,she saidhe's half baked,full of…

Give Me Back My Albert Hall

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“Now, “Pour Some Sugar on Me” is a hit of the eighties.”

Wanderer and The Temple

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the odd stone stands/taller than trees/it protrudes from the young forest/an old mecca but smooth

Blank Checks

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Then he said something that really made sense, said he kept a blank check in his back pocket...

Desire

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The young monk rose early to jog, his appetites trailing like cats in heat.

Sauna

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The arid paramour, your breath is hot, dry, cedar. I sweat you corpus fluids and salt and the unnamably impure.