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7.53Another morning ritual. Trying to fill the loose ends of time in the early morning is a task.7.54I've done about everything, too early to work and too late to go back to sleep. 7.55Trying to avoid the nausea of life at all cost. My mind is a snakepit, filled with…
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On Monday, May 7, 2018, at the age of 67, I had a stroke.
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121500
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Creatures of the dark don’t follow daylight savings
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121581
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If you had a choice, be a poet or not,
I’d suggest prose for the lines that you jot.
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felt as if someone had pulled me in by the belt, or grabbed me by a knot in the hair, and kissed me with fire-engine lips. I was happy. I was in love.
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A door slams. The vibrations rattle through the floor, up his legs and into his chest. He can hear the yells, and the tears that mar her voice. Rat-ta-tatRat-ta-tat A door slams. Eyes closed while images of a life he will never live flicker on…
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The flowerpots across the street from Frank’s room at the Place d’Armes Hotel never appeared parched by the late August sun.
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She pulled the book off its shelf. It meant something else now. He'd quote her in the mirror, at the backs of buses that kept her moving, something she'd said without saying. He would remember for them. She'd forget, without him, the way she wanted. Garland and lights were…
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After Slick Daddy — aka Billy Ray Thompson — gave up driving his log truck and took up with playing and singing the blues full-time he was what you might call a hot property around the juke joints along Highway 61. The women didn't seem to mind…
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Some corners of the world seem to be consigned to an eternal hell of never-ending strife. The Middle East; Northern Ireland; the faculty lounge at Oxford University.
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My first time alone with the women in Saudi Arabia...
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First Fall in Love by Darryl PriceWhat the black lives matter peopleare saying is black lives matter, too.Just as much. What blue meanies aspeople are saying is blue mattersmore. I don't believe that and neithershould you. What the green lives matterpeople are saying is we…
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You are my intergalactic princess / The most beautiful in twelve systems
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Billy Joel wants to hold my hand.
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Every night I say "I dream about you all the time, Nae Ann," but the truth is I don't. I dream about stupid crap at work like air filters for a 2006 Mazda RX-8 GT.
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The day was yesterday, November 11, 2010. I was home from work, and I pulled my car into the driveway. I stopped short of the garage to get out of the car and get the daily mail. Bills and unwanted coupons for places I didn't go and for items I don't…
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We laughed like lords and lunatics
Our schematics stretched before us
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I hear the woman upstairs running water. But that's incorrect. I should say the woman upstairs is running from water. She loves water. And water loves her. She loves cooking and doing dishes but especially running water. She runs water all day doing dishes, doing laundry…
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“Lassie was a hack,” Jim the Wonder Dog says as he looks out over fields of soybeans. “She couldn’t act her way out of a 25 pound bag of Purina Dog Chow."
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“It's a combination of ‘Survivor' and ‘College Bowl' says Sister Mary Agnesita, the show's host. “We take four very strict nuns and match them up with boys who were cut-ups in their grade school classes."
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Ben was stuck between sweet essences and rancid Talmudic funk. It was going to be a long trip.
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the burning thrusts/
of yellow in defiance of the frost
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“You know, Miss Viv, I love looking at the sun when it’s almost gone. It kinda looks like an orange and apple squished together. Those are the colors. And the puffy clouds under it look like a bed. It’s going to sleep."
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I imaged him at his mother's house, eating chicken and tabouli with her at her round marble table, leaning back and laughing, then reading my “love you” and excusing himself to cry in the bathroom.
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with peaty aromatics, opened,/
and a welcomed sting, swallowed,
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and springs its ready-made claws into action and takes a soppy chance that things will probably go its feline way today. But you, my friend, must you always throw the testing switch to high voltage on me? Yeah I get that the history teachers…
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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.
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